In The Service
by NGTM-R
Summary: The war goes on, and the flames burn brighter. But everything changes at some point...
1. In The Service

A/N: What the main characters look like from the perspective of the little people. Anyways, somewhere between As and StrikerS…

**In The Service  
**The TSAB M-class patrol warship _Uhlan_ emerged from the Dimensional Sea and into orbit of Adminstrated World #6, Diosid, where bad things were currently happening. Diosid had hosted an Orbital Penal Complex until about thirty minutes ago.

Now it hosted a debris cloud, a hijacked civilian starship, and a lot of escaped prisoners. _Uhlan_ darted after the civilian spacecraft, trying to bring it within range of the Bureau ship's teleport jammers and stop the ship from spamming its cargo of convicts all across Diosid with its teleporters.

The civilian ship turned away. It was a pointless exercise to try and run away from a top-of-the-line military starship of course. But it bought time for the ship to try and teleport all those prisoners to the ground, where they could hide.

The Bureau ship's captain started deploying his own mages to make sure that strategy was unsuccessful.

* * *

Mage Team 70 was the highest-numbered currently active Navy Mage Team in the Adminstrated Worlds area. It was representive of the instrument that the Navy most often selected to project power on the ground, since starship bombardment usually caused a bit of a mess. It consisted of eight flight mages, three officers, five enlisted, all wearing the black longcoat of someone who had taken the mage speciality in the Navy. The oldest member was forty-two; the youngest was fifteen. Average age was mid-twenties. Four Intelligent and four Armed Devices, higher quality than the average split.

Today, their job was to contain nearly fifty hostile mages, ranked from A to D. It wasn't very going well.

"Sir, we're not really doing much good here," one of them observed.

Samuel al-Faddil, Mage Commander, Officer In Charge Mage Team Seventy, dodged a beam attack and pulled back up to a higher altitude. "I noticed, Zeal. We're just here to herd them until Ground Forces gets its act together."

The convicts, soon hoping to be ex-convicts, were as aware as anyone that at the moment their only strength was in numbers. But they were never going to get away that way, and they knew that too.

"Leakers. Fiat, Altima, deal with them." Some of them had decided to make a break for it. The two indicated mages, a blond male and the youngest female on the team, herded them back into the main body with beam attacks.

Help then arrived, just not the help they had been expecting.

"One woman, that's crazy."

"That's a Wolkenritter, Mage Specialist. Focus." al-Faddil snapped back, and lead his team down to support.

Signum found herself with approximately fifty hostile mages about her, all Deviceless. While lethal force had been authorized if necessary, she did not yet regard the situation as that serious. Besides, if she had intended to kill them all, they would all already be dead. Schlangeform could have done it with ease.

She didn't bother with the usual Bureau spiel. They'd heard it before and they hadn't listened once already. So she set about reminding them why the Bureau was not to be crossed.

From the outside it was simply impossible to follow the senior Wolkenritter as she lashed out in seemingly all directions with blade, fists, and feet. Even so she might have been overwhelmed, but the Mage Team turned up too.

It took approximately five minutes to clean them all up. The last remaining convict dove at al-Faddil, who drew two fingers to his chest, just under his neck, then snapped them out into the man's face. "Nova."

After that, the last convict wasn't going anywhere for awhile.

* * *

All over bar the shouting. Or in this case, the reports. The Bureau of course wanted to know how this had happened and what had been done about it. Signum and al-Faddil both sat outside a hearing, waiting their turn to testify.

He wasn't a fan of Ground Forces brown. Such a thing went with his own service and wearing the black longcoat. Honestly, he didn't much care for Signum's Barrier Jacket either. She had great legs, sure, and it was great eye-candy. But Signum wasn't an eye-candy sort of woman. Simple raw power assured that no sane person would ever fail to take Signum seriously, but there were other reasons. Her professionalism indicated that she was very far from new to this, and not a woman to be trifled with. Her skill with her blade was a form of beauty in and of itself, a thing as near perfection as made no difference. From her previous testimony about dealing with another group that had attacked the capital al-Faddil knew Signum had the wisdom to know which problems required a more complex solution than her blade and the mind to solve them anyways. And, just to cap it off, Signum had the humility not to impose her will even when it was well within her means to. The senior Wolkenritter was, in a word, flawless.

That was the inherent contradiction al-Faddil saw in the Wolkenritter. As much as their appearance tried to grab your attention, you payed attention to their appearance only when indulging your inner moron. They had far too much depth to risk shading one's judgement with any reference to their appearance. Despite a lack of outward signs the Mage Commander could put a finger on, even the brief observation he had so far made was enough to establish there was a lot moving around under the hypercompetent surface. Thoughts, emotions, memories glimpsed for a moment, whose shape and size could only be guessed at. She was so ancient, had seen so much, that he honestly doubted he could entirely understand her perspective.

Was this, al-Faddil wondered idly, what looking into the face of a god would be like? To almost, but not quite, understand? The thought made him chuckle; though he'd grown up with the relatively mild form of Islam that his father practiced before and since joining the Bureau, it had gradually fallen away. Samuel al-Faddil imagined Signum would react poorly if he told her that he'd mentally compared her to a goddess, perhaps even if he had explained the context of it first. He had a suspicion that he might not be the first to do that either, though probably the first to do so in a fashion that wasn't completely backhanded.

Signum sensed he was looking at her. "Commander?"

"Nothing." The doors opened and they were beckoned in. The Mage Commander stood and offered the Wolkenritter a slight bow as a show of respect. "Lead on, Dame Signum."


	2. Mistakes

Set immediately after StrikerS and post-StrikerS mangas, but before Sound Stage X. Why yes, that might just be a reference to Material-S you see…

**Mistakes**

"I miss working with the kids." Vita said, watching Teana and Subaru walk by in the halls of Ground Forces Headquarters.

Shamal smiled. "I doubt they miss you, Vita."

Vita harrumphed…or something like it. It really didn't work well coming from someone of her apparent age. "If you want a good mage, you have to train them until they're proud just to have survived it."

"Simple to say when you do not have to maintain their ability to fight at a moment's notice as well." Zafira noted.

"I went easy on them." Vita sniffed.

Signum had to hide a smile behind her hand for a moment. Regaining her composure, she addressed Hayate. "What next, then?" The classic problem of doing one's job too well as a soldier is that you'll put yourself out of it. Hayate had done her job much too well, and though the Bureau was going to promote her, the purpose for which her unit had been created was no longer valid.

Hayate offered a little shrug. "I don't know. We return to Starburst Station," she used the nickname of most service members for TSAB Headquarters, "and await a crisis that requires our attentions, or other assignment." She glanced at Vita. "Though actually, Vita, I have a request to send one of you to assist with a particular mission that Chrono wants done."

"And I suppose Signum will get it." Vita said. Signum had adapted well to the life of a TSAB mage. She had the obvious skills, the willingness to accept orders, and a degree of professionalism that went down well with most military types. That was the real reason she hadn't been around to help with the training often; detached duty and courtesy visits to other people that Stars and Lightning might be required to work with on the ground, acting as a bridge to the field-grade officers and enlisted of the Ground Forces and Air Force. There were a lot of such people, so she was gone a lot.

Hayate smiled at her youngest knight. Not that calling a Wolkenritter young was saying much when there was good evidence they were at least a millenia old. "Actually, Vita, he requested you by name."

Vita looked confused for a moment. She'd never got on well with Chrono. Oh, sure, she could salute and "sir" and come to attention as well as anybody, years of practice at that by now. But Chrono was a by-the-book sort of officer, and Vita would never be less than a maverick in battle…unless specifically detailed to defend Hayate. At that, Vita was as conscientious as anyone could be. "And what exactly is Chrono giving me that's supposed to get me killed?" Vita asked.

"Vita!" Hayate sounded greatly upset by that remark. "Chrono would never do that." She regarded the young Admiral as the brother she'd never had. And besides, you could count on Chrono to do two things: the best job possible, and to care for those under his command. The man made the term "model officer" inadequate.

"All right, all right." Vita grumped.

* * *

Vita paced the bridge of the TSAB cruiser _Uhlan_.

"Not fond of waiting, Dame Vita?"

Vita shot a glance at al-Faddil. "You are?" She'd managed to get on much better with his Team then the other one aboard, Team 26. Mainly because in Vita's opinion the leader of Team 26 had joined the military so he could exercise his desire to control people. As far as Vita was concerned, placing someone in a posistion of power over other people was not fundementally wrong, but you had to keep a close eye on the ones who wanted power over others as the primary reason for rank. They were liable to turn out bad.

Plus, at least al-Faddil was willing to spar with her. Not that he ever won or anything, but holding out for three minutes was pretty good for an AA-ranker. Mind, it had come as a bit of a shock to get kicked in the head the first time. But ultimately, Vita respected that sort of blunt-force roughhousing, not in the least because _everyone else in the Bureau_ was either scared out of their wits at what she would do to them for it or didn't have their heart in the fight because she looked like a kid. In a very direct and informal way, it showed that he regarded Vita as a serious opponent, a serious person. By the same token, it also showed he wasn't afraid of her. Vita had been asking for and trying for both those things for a long time.

Al-Faddil considered his answer and then shook his head. "When it lets the other guy dig in like he probably is now, no."

"That's what I thought." Vita replied. Team 26's commander, standing nearby, looked offended by the informality with an officer who was technically two grades Vita's senior. Al-Faddil considered the relative rankings irrevelant; as a Wolkenritter, with all the baggage that came attached to that name and the immortal lifetime, Vita deserved every bit of respect he could muster.

_Uhlan_'s captain ignored the byplay. "Have we got a lock yet?"

"Trying sir." That would be the local equivalent of Amy Linetta. "Thunderstorm over the target area. I have ghosting, interference, and opacity. Sensor conditions suck, sir." There was an unspoken "stop asking me and I'll get this done faster" in the reply. Everyone was on edge. There was a known serial-killer mage down there. Twenty-nine known murders to their credit. Everyone aboard wanted a shot at the woman, and today was one of those rare, wonderful days when being charged with the breaking people and things seemed more like priviledge than a duty.

"Sir there have to be multiple mages down there, even with the ghosting I'm getting too many returns."

"Captain, it's not getting any better here. We should deploy." Mage Team 26's commander.

Al-Faddil nodded. "Sir, we've got good maps of the ground, we can forgo a midair deployment and you can guide us to the targets on the ground. It may not be fun, but our Devices have infrared, we'll be able to see." The Bureau was many things, but it was rarely outright stupid. They had watched the development of such things on other worlds and seen its effectiveness, and so spent much time and effort on developing analogues to infrared and low-light technology for their soldiers.

Vita winced. She hadn't had to fight in the rain in a long time. "No flight. Ugly."

"You're short enough you can hov-" Team 26's commander would swear later than Vita had momentarily transformed into the avatar of death itself.

The captain conceded the point to his specialists. "All right, go."

* * *

"Camp."

"And we were worried they'd know we got here."

"Quiet. Maybe they do." Team 26's commander again. Vita was beginning to loathe that man.

She huddled in her Barrier Jacket. "I hate fighting in the rain." Actually she didn't. She just hated this whole situation. She appreciated the logic of surrounding the camp first, but inwardly she raged. There was a killer in there, and finally, finally it was someone she could strike at. Waiting held absolutely no appeal.

"Go."

The resulting fullisade of magic tore the tents to shreds and knocked out most of the people in it. Most of the Mage Team members moved in to secure the prisoners. Vita noted at least three people, three mages, still up and trying to make a run for it. Vita went after the strongest one, who registered as at least AAA to her.

"Hey you!" Vita hit the woman, or tried to, but only managed to take off the hood of the cloak she was wearing over her Barrier Jacket. Vita was instantly struck by the resemblence to Nanoha. It stayed her hand a moment, a mistake which cost her getting stabbed in the chest.

Wolkenritter are not human. They look human. They act human. A priviledged few among the Bureau who had shaken hands with them knew they felt human. Familars that had encountered them, however, knew the truth, because they didn't _smell_ human. No one had been so lucky as to yet discover that even with an ear placed against their chest, neither breathing nor heartbeat could be heard by normal human ears.

A Wolkenritter is made of condensed magic. Anything which does not damage their Linker Core is, in theory, irrevelant to their continued functioning. In practice this isn't true, as the pyschological shock of truly horrific injury will cause them to "lose their grip" on existence. But had the woman, mage, and serial killer really been up on her game, she would have known that stabbing Vita in the chest, even through her apparent heart, wasn't going to kill the Iron Knight.

In fact, it really only bought five seconds to run while Vita pulled the Device out of her chest. It also made Vita mad.

The bit about the Starlight Breaker coming at her might hurt, however.

"**Interceptor Shift.**" It looked rather like her own Swallow Flyer or Nanoha's Axel Shooter in a dark blue, but it didn't act like it. For one thing, there were about twenty of them. For another, they must have had some kind of disruptive effect, because each one damaged the cohesion of the beam shooting at her, causing it grow branches and tributaries firing off from the place it was hit by each packet. Each one sapped the beam's power, diverting a portion.

The terminal effect of the Starlight Breaker in the end turned out to be similar to a light sunburn. That wasn't going to even rate Vita's notice as she flew straight at the woman and hit her as hard as she could.

The resulting crack and compacting were pretty clearly lethal, and Vita blinked.

"Primary target dealt with," al-Faddil's voice. Then, softer. "She did try to kill you."

"I didn't mean to kill her." Vita replied.

"She meant to kill you. Fair shot at it too."

Vita looked down at her chest and appeared to now notice the fact she'd been stabbed. "I could have taken her down without it. No excuse."

"Not for you, maybe, but enough for us." Al-Faddil pulled up a holowindow. "_Uhlan_. Two to recover, one wounded."


	3. Deployment 41 of 40

You wake up and you think "at least I don't have to fight Signum today, man that would be bad". Then you do have to fight Signum. Oh crap. This chapter is much longer than the others because it's been worked on for much longer (months, really) and actually represents the first piece of _In The Service_ I ever wrote.  
Simple magic, like the stuff cast in combat, is very consistant cause-and-effect stuff. However the more complex the enchantment or artifact, the less sense it is required to make. (The Book of the Night Sky, for example, takes all magical and physical laws and beats them to death with Graf Eisen. Any attempt to understand how the Book does _anything_ is an exercise in how many Jail Scaligetti clones you can drive to suicide. So in short, "I don't have to explain it. It's magic!")

**Deployment #41…of 40**

Samuel al-Faddil closed his eyes. You didn't really measure time aboard a Bureau ship by days. Every cruise lasted exactly three months. You measured time aboard ship by deployments. _Uhlan_'s most recent cruise had been eventful, with nearly forty deployments requiring the attentions of his team and over eighty total. It was good enough to be back at headquarters, for now. Later he'd have to set about getting his team's Devices checked out and serviced, look over the compiled mission reports, set up a station-board training schedule, and file his final recommendation on the promotion of one of his team, Aziza Citronen. For now, the wheels in Personnel and Logistics would turn without his help. He sighed and relaxed back against the wall.

"Commander al-Faddil."

Al-Faddil's eyes snapped open. "Dame Signum." He glanced to either side of her, and over her shoulders. "But no Agito."

Agito was novel merely by her rarity, being one of the only two UNISON Devices in existence. People kept track of her for that reason. "Agito is resting. Our last deployment was taxing." Signum replied, settling down across the table he sat at. "Being powerful, keeping company with the powerful, has its burdens."

"Take more than your fair share of objectives, and you will be given more than your fair share of objectives to take." Al-Faddil agreed, quoting an old soldier's maxim. "What brings you back to Headquarters?"

"A chance to rest and recover, until needed again." Signum studied the man's face a moment. "Much as you, I imagine."

"Looking for something?" There was a trace of humor in his voice.

"Perhaps." Signum replied, her voice carefully neutral even for her. "Vita spoke of you with some respect."

Al-Faddil leaned back against the seat. "That's gratifying, but 'spoke of with some respect' probably means something different from the norm with Dame Vita. But you aren't here about that."

Signum sighed. It was about as much emotion as she felt like displaying in public. "You cut to the chase, then?"

"Technically, I'm already on leave. It's not personal, I'm simply trying to organize my thoughts with that goal in mind and you're sort of in the way. So, cut to the chase. NAW Two Two Nine. Gadgets." He used the standard "nah" pronounciation for Non-Adminstrated World.

"Exactly." Signum replied.

"Two-two-nine has no sentient life, but it will support people well enough if you want to go walking around. Since there's no permanent Bureau presence, it's non-adminstered. Automated monitoring reported the presence of a starship and went offline. Three Bureau cruisers diverted immediately; _Uhlan_ was first on the scene and caught a lander trying to lift off again. _Uhlan_ shot it down, we went in and mopped up twenty Type Ones that survived the crash in ten minutes." The delivery was simple, polished, matter-of-fact. Someone used to writing action reports and then condensing them for briefing others.

Signum considered briefly how much trouble the Forwards had with their first training session against Gadgets. A Mage Team fielded more people, eight, and more power, being composed of A-rankers and usually lead by an AA-ranker. But she knew from reading the reports that was not why Team Seventy had beat the Gadgets with such ease. Mage Teams were composed of flight mages, supersonic flight required minimum. The mobility advantage counted for an awful lot. "We think we've found their point of origin. Colonel Yagami," it was actually something of a struggle not to speak of Hayate as Mistress for Signum even after years of being told otherwise, "is putting a request to Fleet for your team's services since you have experience with this."

Al-Faddil raised an eyebrow at her. "I watched you chew through quite a few opponents roughly equivalent to the mages on my team. If this is something that requires Wolkenritter to sort out, what assurances do I have that my people aren't simply going to go 'squish' when things get serious?" Once upon a time, being an A-ranked mage meant you were at the top of the food chain. Oh sure, there was the occasional AA or AAA ranker, but that wasn't enough of a difference that luck or skill couldn't cover it. Then Nanoha and Fate and Hayate and the Wolkenritter had turned up, and after them the universe had started to expand into a much more dangerous place. Ten years ago a major commitment would have been needed to deal with something like this, with multiple ships and ten or more Mage Teams. Now they could just drop the Wolkenritter on it.

Signum offered a tiny frown. The problem was that anything the Wolkenritter were supposed to squish was itself quite capable of stepping on A-ranked mages in small numbers. "You would take a screening role. Not a fighting one, go ahead and find the enemy, and once serious fighting starts, clean up behind us. I cannot make promises, of course. It probably _will_ be more dangerous than your average deployment, but less so than the worst. After all, you have Wolkenritter to back you up."

A nod from the Mage Team commander. "All right then. Training was pretty clear the job wasn't going to be safe anyways."

* * *

"How did it go?" Hayate asked.

"Well enough. He raised the obvious point." Actually speaking with Hayate was still something of a formality. Though her link to the Wolkenritter had faded, it was not gone and standing right next to each other they both knew everything there was to know about the conversation.

Hayate nodded and turned, walking down a corridor with Signum at her side. "Of course he did. They don't hand Mage Team commands to just anyone." Fate was currently stuck with such a command, and the three-month deployments with three-week rest and training periods between played hell with her relationship with…well, everyone. It even upset Signum, who wasn't getting in nearly as many chances to practice against Fate. Bureau command insisted they didn't have a slot for Fate on Midchilda, which, Hayate knew, was probably true. But it was also a sad commentary that they wouldn't juggle some transfers or otherwise make one. The Navy had actually made an effort, the Navy took care of its own. They had tried to get Fate assigned to an important training post on Mid, but it had been blocked higher up the chain of command.

Finding out who that particular person had been and discovering ways to make their life uncomfortable was one of Hayate's major goals in life at the moment. Hayate shook that thought off. "Did you see any of his team?"

"No. He was starting to round them up as I left. None had left the station yet." Signum replied.

"All right." Hayate replied.

_Though, with respect, I must ask why their involvement is necessary. We can do this on our own._ Signum said it telepathically. There were more than enough black longcoats about that even her usual disdain for politics was overriden.

Hayate performed the mental equivalent of a chuckle. _The Navy did most of the work finding this, and it would ordinarily fall to the Navy to deal with it. It would be bad manners to leave them out entirely. Would you have preferred Fate's team?_

_Considering that would subtract from her leave time, no._ Signum replied. _I was not questioning your choice._

Hayate's mental voice sounded amused. _You were, and you're allowed to do that. I may have been plugged into the all-powerful artifact, but you are the one with the natural grasp of tactics._ She gave Signum a gentle push on the shoulder. _Do we need to have the "my name is not Mistress" conversation again?_

_No._ Signum frowned at Hayate. It was obvious Hayate was teasing her rather than being serious, but there were times where it seemed Hayate just didn't understand. It was not simple to break the habits of an immortal lifetime, and Signum thought she and the other Wolkenritter had done quite well at it. "They should be ready by now. We embark at the end of the day?"

"Yes." Hayate agreed. "Chasing down the leftovers of Jail is turning out to consume a large portion of my life."

* * *

The introductions were made aboard ship, but Signum did not yet classify the Mage Team members by name. It was a habit she had once applied to masters as well, at least until they had proved they weren't going to go out in a blaze of psychosis. Instead she mentally referred to them by a trait. Al-Faddil was The Leader; his underlings were various other things, "the sharp one", "the youngest" and so on.

They seemed professional enough. Just enough byplay and personality to prove the military machine hadn't consumed them whole, choked out their individuality and hence ability to display individual initative, but not so much as to indicate a discipline problem. Model mages. Signum was reminded of an aphorism she had heard early in her career in the Bureau about Ground Forces troops: "No combat-ready unit has ever passed inspection. No inspection-ready unit has ever passed combat."

Maybe they did things differently in the Navy. There wasn't going to be much chance to find out aboard ship. The training deck could only handle four people at a time. But then, the way Vita was talking with al-Faddil excitedly, maybe they would after all.

Like right now, as Vita more or less dragged the man, who was better than twice her height, to the training deck.

"Eisen!" Vita said, triggering her transformation.

"Steelheart." Samuel replied, already in his Barrier Jacket, since it was required of a Navy mage who was shipboard and awake to always be ready to fight.

"**Start up.**" Steelheart was a short blade, slightly more than half as long as Levantine, one-handed. The blade was clearly double-edged and had a sharpened point for stabbing, but the general shape was more reminscent of a single-edged slashing blade like a cavalry sabre. Overall construction was relatively plain, the blade pristine, the guard a functional circular model with a slight forward curve on the left and right sides to deflect a slipping blade up and away from Steelheart's wielder. The sole evidence of serious craftsmanship was intricate engravings on the hilt that were mostly hidden by the wielder's hand.

Something about it seemed familiar to Signum, naggingly so. Being not-quite-really-human, however, her memory was perfect in theory and she ought to have been able to place anything she'd seen before instantly.

"You been practicing?" Vita asked.

"You know I can't find somebody to practice against who's anything like as good as you are." Samuel replied. "But yes."

"Good. Eisen!"

"**Raketenform!**"

The block al-Faddil threw was his blade against Graf Eisen's haft, rather than trying to stop the head, which almost certainly wouldn't have worked. Signum shook her head. If Nanoha had been this canny back when they had first met her…well. In truth, the Wolkenritter would have regarded her as a serious threat from the beginning, and probably would have killed the Ace of Aces before she knew enough to have mastered her cartridge system and effectively fight back.

Vita pulled her hammer back and three more tries were met the same way. She dodged back and tried a Swallow Flier, but al-Faddil stopped them with his own similar blasts, and Vita's effort to capitalize on his distraction found no distraction to capitalize on.

Then al-Faddil twisted in place and kicked Vita in the head hard enough the youngest Wolkenritter stumbled away.

Signum's head jerked left, half-expecting to find Hayate already starting to cast a Diabolic Emission. Instead the Mistress of the Night Sky was sputtering with rage, her face red. Zafira winced, with a muttered comment on al-Faddil having some gonads to be pulling a stunt like that. Shamal also winced, but her statement was different. "Vita is going to beat him up _so badly_ for that."

Vita was grinning a rather frightening grin as she came back at him, but the kick had signalled a switch to a more full-contact style that Vita couldn't really match. She just didn't have the height or the reach. Regardless, she eventually worked back in close enough to set up what looked like a good hit, but before she could land it the buzzer went off, ending the match.

The whole thing had lasted about two and a half minutes. Vita actually seemed to be laughing, and gladly accepted the traditional post-match handshake. The junior knight walked over to her family easily.

"Vita, are you-"

Vita pointed at Hayate with Graf Eisen. "I can take getting kicked in the head and a hell of a lot more. Don't start." Hayate glowered at her for the minor swear, as Vita returned Graf Eisen to resting on her shoulder and jerked a thumb over her other shoulder. "Besides, he's better training for the loonies, who never play nice. Most people I know either are scared to death of what I'd do for that, or their heart isn't in it enough because I look like a kid."

"Fix your hat. And why so short a match?" Signum chided mildly before Hayate could jump in. It was still important to give Hayate time to accept Vita's logic.

Vita shot a glare at the senior Wolkenritter and adjusted her hat. It was all for show, of course, being part of her Barrier Jacket the outward appearance was purely cosmetic. "There, fixed my hat. Because if I can't take him down that fast, his Team would jump in in the real world, and then it's anything goes. Besides, a full-length match, ten minutes, that's no contest. He won't play the game if there's no way he can win it. Sometime we'll do this in open air and it'll be much more interesting. Mage Team people like their room to manuver."

Signum nodded slowly. "Perhaps you will."

* * *

It was time for the pre-deployment planning session. That was a luxury in and of itself as far as al-Faddil was concerned; normally a Mage Team got sent into something already going on, so there was no time to brief or plan. He stood to go to the briefing room, catching the attention of his 2IC with a little "follow me" gesture, and then noted he would have an escort.

Signum had come to collect him. It was an unnecessary gesture here, but he caustically supposed it came from having to deal with Ground Forces types too often. A Bureau warship, despite its raw size being quite large, has a relatively small crew and small spaces for them. An M-class ship like the _Uhlan_ has just shy of a hundred and fifty crew, and if carrying a complete complement of Mage Team personnel another thirty-two. Most ships only had two Mage Teams rather than four. There weren't that many flight mages to go around.

The planning session consisted of Signum, Hayate, al-Faddil, and his second in command. Cora Zeal, or as Signum had temporarily dubbed her "the creepy one", bore an extremely strong resemblence in both looks and voice to one of the Wolkenritter's previous Mistresses. Considering that such people could be considered a who's who of the universe's worst, this was more than enough to set Signum on edge.

Hayate outlined the plan the two of them had made. Al-Faddil nodded at several points, but let Hayate present it. He considered the holo represenation of the map for a moment, then looked to his second and got a nod. "It's a good plan, Colonel. There is one recommendation I'd make, though. My team is used to midair deployment. If possible we'd prefer to deploy that way."

Signum blinked. "That leaves you rather exposed."

"No way to ambush you when you're a kilometer up. If we see it coming, odds are good we can dodge it." A shrug. "There are no perfect solutions in tactics, of course."

"You know the rules of engagement?" Hayate asked.

"One B. Lethal force is authorized against A-rank and up, though capture would be preferred where possible." al-Faddil replied. It was fairly loose rules for the Bureau, but Fleet had been insistant that it was either One B or One A for the Mage Team; they could not be expected to reasonably capture Combat Cyborgs if any were present as was considered possible, but lethal force is perversely usually easier than nonlethal. Hayate viewed the authorization of _any_ lethal force with a distaste bordering on violent nausea, but accepted the logic of it.

It would have surprised her to find out that Signum would have preferred the Mage Team operate under One A, which more or less demanded no enemy survivors. The senior Wolkenritter didn't think any ambiguity was wise. She kept that thought to herself, both not voicing it and keeping it away from her link to Hayate and the others. She could decide that some things were too private even for them, which was fortunate. Things could have been very awkward if she had to share all the thoughts of four other people.

Deployment was simple and standard. They could have deployed directly, but with the possiblity of AMF and fixed defenses that had been judged an unnecessary risk. Fifty kilometers away was close enough to be quickly reached by flight, yet far enough that no defense perimeter could reasonably extend that distance.

Hayate's intial impression was gently rolling hills and grass. She took off and joined up with the Mage Team, the Wolkenritter leading, the Navy mages flanking. At twenty-five kilometers, though, she realized there was a smoke column rising from their target. And one of the Navy mages spotted something else.

"Type Twos, count eighty plus."

_Signum_. Hayate didn't give detailed instructions. They were unnecessary.

"Pick up what I drop." Signum said into the headset she'd appropriated for this mission. Then she and Agito went to work.

"…wow." Signum wasn't actually sure which one of the Navy mages had reacted that way, though if she had to guess it had been the young one.

"Snap it up. Climb and engage, standard drill." That was definitely al-Faddil.

A flight-capable mage bears little resemblence to an aircraft as they manuver. To fly in the first place, a mage nullifies most of their own personal mass. They then stomp all over the normal manuverablity limits with a flight barrier that not only prevents the air around them from acting like it's in relative motion but also acts as a complete-body control surface, allowing the mage to far outmanuver any conventional aircraft. They have a power-to-weight ratio that conventional engines can only dream of. And lastly, they have flexible weapons, able to direct their fire in just about any direction they want. As such, trying to dogfight mages with conventional aircraft, even magically enhanced ones like Type 2 Gadgets, is simply asinine.

Of the seventy-odd to start with, Signum had dealt with a little over sixty. That left fourteen, who promptly tried to employ the one thing that made them able to fight mages at all: long-range missiles. That didn't help much either, as at least two of the Navy mages cast beam attacks and swept them through the missile cloud. And al-Faddil cast something that looked a lot like Nanoha's Axel Shooter, but rather more numerous, and cleaned up the rest of the missiles with direct hits from the packets of magic. Signum found the display of fine-control multitasking to do something like that mildly impressive. Nanoha or Fate could probably do something like that, but they wouldn't have been stretching the limits of their ability to draw magic just to try either.

Fourteen Type 2s, diving at a forty-five degree angle at just under Mach 1. Eight of the black longcoats, climbing at a forty-five degree angle at just over Mach 1. Beam attacks and small blasts were traded with lasers and missile snapshots, and the Gadgets started to explode. The Mage Team didn't bother to turn around after the merge, cleaning up the last five Gadgets with beam attacks fired using their ability to turn their weapons.

"No casualities, Colonel." Al-Faddil's voice said. The Mage Team looped back to take up their flanking posistions.

"Let's move." Hayate said. "Somebody visited ahead of us."

"That's not in the script," the Navy mage, Citronen, that Signum had mentally tagged as "the sharp one" observed a few moments later. The installation they had come to capture had clearly been the scene of pitched combat recently. Parts were afire. Most showed obvious signs of combat damage, blast marks, craters, holes, buildings torn open or partially rubble.

"Perimeter." Al-Faddil replied. A minute later, a series of negative reports rolled back. "Colonel, if you could lend me some heavy lifting power? We'll probably have to go underground and the tight quarters don't give me a warm fuzzy feeling about rapid backup ma'am."

"Trade. Four of your people for my knights." Hayate replied, all business.

"Bei, Zafira. Citronen, Shamal. Heinrich, Signum." Al-Faddil glanced over towards where the Wolkenritter were clustered. "I think it would be best to leave you Vita and one of my sections."

Hayate nodded, though he couldn't see that without Device assistance at this distance, and he probably wasn't looking that way. "Acceptable. We'll check out the upper buildings. Find an entry and clear the lower levels if any."

The sweep tactics would have been familiar enough to anyone who knew SWAT or military urban operational procedure, though they would have shaken their head at teams of two unless they realized how much raw power a mage represented. They turned up nothing. Hayate and her group did find a command center, and the Mage Team's technical specialist had gone to work on the computer, Citronen and her device engaging in a struggle less deadly but no less hard-fought with the remaining computers.

Al-Faddil deactivated his blade and shook his head as he and Signum finished checking the last room in this portion of the base. "We got beat to the punch here."

Then a snap and a crackle as a barrier cut the room in half, and a new arrival came. At the same time Signum's and al-Faddil's Devices both warned of it being not possible to teleport.

Signum. But not Signum. The Barrier Jacket was different. An apparently metal breastplate, long sleeves, the armor skirt a full wraparound of jointed overlapping plates with only a little fringe of fabric sticking out beneath it. The dominate color of the fabric was a blood-red. Of course it was a Barrier Jacket; all such differences were purely cosmetic.

"Steelheart," al-Faddil said, addressing his device.

"**Start up.**" The Device replied, assuming its sword form.

_That's you._ Telepathy is an extremely intimate form of conversation. The directness of it, straight from one mind to another, means that it is impossible to conceal intentions or feelings. The person you sent to would know how you thought; not the specifics, not what, but most definitely how. Though only one way, with only the sender revealing themselves, to fail to reply in kind instantly marked you as untrustworthy. The touch of al-Faddil's mind in combat was like a computer on the surface. Cold, precise, calculating, running through options and possiblities at a speed to confound the normal pace of thought. Buried beneath that, warmth. Signum thought it was not dissimilar from Zafira's mind, though al-Faddil locked the warmth away more deeply.

_It is._ Signum agreed. The touch of her own mind was similar, but also not. There was an impression of much greater complexity, a sense of great depth and many more possiblities. And beneath that lurked blackness, a terrifying vista of nothingness without end. Signum did not merely bury her humanity in combat, she dispensed with it entirely. Agito was there too, a silent presence of anger and flame.

But damnably, Signum could see no way to intervene in this battle. She had tried to break the barrier with Levantine even as it had snapped into existence, but that hadn't worked. It was well-made, and it would take her longer to break it then she suspected al-Faddil had left to live.

Other-Signum raised her blade and advanced on al-Faddil. He stood his ground, seemingly unphased. That drew a chuckle without warmth. "No last words?" Signum registered absolutely no reaction in al-Faddil's face, stance, or breathing. It was as if he hadn't heard his opponent.

Al-Faddil worked his sword through a defensive set as warmup, casually…and with a slowness that was a clear falsehood to someone who had seen him use a blade before. Then he advanced to meet Other-Signum half way. Whatever the evil twin was, it moved with the real version's quickness, a sudden thrust intended to push her blade through al-Faddil's chest.

He parried with delibrate slowness, still advancing; Steelheart did not reach as far as the false Levantine. Another thrust, and this time he parried like he meant it, bringing Other-Signum's blade out of line and lunging forward. The thrust was dodged, Other-Signum twisting her torso out of the way to one side, but the knee into the groin connected. A leg sweep, catching only one leg on purpose. If Other-Signum went down, she'd have a clean shot at his legs and she'd be out of Steelheart's relatively short reach. If she merely stumbled to one side and had to rebalance, her sword might not be available to block at the right moment.

It was a good try, but even unbalanced Other-Signum blocked two cuts at her head. _Citronen. Can you just smash something up there?_ Signum demanded telepathically.

_I don't have the power to crack any of the base systems like that,_ the technical specialist replied. It took her a moment; most people whose minds brushed against Signum's when she was fighting found the experience disconcerting.

_How urgent is it Signum?_ Hayate asked, probably having recognized the expression most people wore after hearing Signum telepathically and asked her own questions out loud.

The reply was a simple _Very. _

_Rein and I will handle it._

Signum's fingers flexed on Levantine's grip. Other-Signum was starting to adapt to the full-contact fencing style being employed against her, learning to keep a bit more distance, to use the length of her blade better. She couldn't match the way al-Faddil coordinated blade and fisticuffs, but she didn't need to. Signum recognized the signs of the shift against al-Faddil. He was attacking less, defending more, losing the initative.

A loud roar resounded through the corridors and the earth shook as Hayate annihilated half the complex in the process of taking out the power generators. The barrier flickered and died, and Signum charged.

Her doppleganger showed the unnatural strength of a true Wolkenritter, forcing al-Faddil off his feet, and then turned to meet her, blocking the first slash. Then the doppleganger died, as Steelheart was shoved up through their pelvis and out their stomach, followed by a blast of magic from the blade to create a large wound. "**Good kill,**" the Navy mage's Device announced, sounding excessively happy about it as Other-Signum appeared to evaporate. Al-Faddil had been more determined then Other-Signum had given him credit for.

Signum didn't bother to watch, assessing al-Faddil's condition as functional at a glance and moving to stand behind him, covering his back in case of further arrivals. The Mage Commander shook his head to clear it as he came fully to his feet, back-to-back with his impromptu partner. "Don't suppose you know what that was about?" Samuel asked.

"No." Signum replied. She realized abruptly that she could feel Hayate, feel the others, again. They were too far away for that, but something about her doppelganger or its death had energized her connection to them once more.

"Pity. This is going to be hard to explain to the Admiral."

* * *

Chrono Harlaown was not a happy man. It was through no fault of those who had conducted the operation that it had gone completely wrong, and he recognized that. He also considered Hayate's decision to trade a possible clue for the life of one of her temporary subordinates the right call. If the Bureau would not protect the lives of its own members, then they would not perform to their best for the Bureau. Despite this, he was left with half a base and a large smoking hole in the ground instead of much in the way of useful information.

The flagship _Circe_'s techs and non-combat mages were currently taking the base apart. Chrono had told them to go molecule by molecule if that seemed likely to turn up something. It wasn't an idle order. Like many in the Navy, he didn't believe that the Bureau had cleaned house as thoroughly as it should have after the JS Incident. Unlike many, he was in a posistion to do something about it. Jail had undoubtedly been a gifted amateur at counterintelligence, but he was still an amateur. Chrono had the rank and the means to hire professionals. Outsiders even, brought in from non-adminstered worlds.

It had been a solid investment so far. His team of techs and non-combat mages were learning what was useful to the analysts in addition to their own fields of forensics now, so Chrono expected it would only get better. He looked up from preliminary reports as Hayate entered the room. "My analytical people want your head for blowing up those power generators."

Hayate smiled and saluted. She and Chrono didn't have a saluting relationship, but he appreciated the gesture anyways. "They usually want my head for something. Nature of what I cast."

"True enough." Chrono agreed, standing. "The Mage Team performed satisfactorily, I take it?"

"We never really got a chance to use them the way it was intended, but yes." Hayate agreed.

Chrono inclined his head slightly to the right. "You know if I could, I would probably assign them to you for more field operations. Free up the Wolkenritter for more front-line duties, and better protect you. You're too valuable to leave in the hands of one person."

Hayate shook her head. "One Wolkenritter's hands are more capable than the hands of many other mages."

Chrono shook his head back at her. "One Wolkenritter is still only one set of eyes. I don't feel entirely comfortable with you having only that much protection from the unexpected, Hayate. Both as a Bureau officer and as your friend."

Hayate shifted slightly uncomfortably. "They would never accept being replaced protecting me. You know that." Her knights, her children, could be extremely protective in their own way. Hayate dreaded the day that someone actually injured her, for she was quite aware that her knights were capable of berserker rage given a reason. If she were ever incapacitated the problem would be to make the Wolkenritter stop, and she wasn't sure that could be done short of using an Arc-En-Ciel.

Chrono nodded. He viewed the problem rather differently. The Wolkenritter were unquestionably the most loyal troops the Bureau had ever been blessed with. Some of the Saint Church's Order Militant knights might match their ethos of "duty unto death", but they rarely worked well with Bureau troops. The Wolkenritter did. Which brought him to the real problem.

"What about the doppelganger?"

Hayate produced the Book of the Night Sky. "I can't find any evidence of it. You know that the Book is one of the most powerful artifacts to ever come into the Bureau's possession. Without my adminstrative access no one would have a clue what it was capable of, and even I don't truly understand how it works half the time. Rein is the only one who knows everything about it, and she agrees with me absolutely that the other Signum did not manifest from the Book."

Chrono nodded slowly. "Could someone else verify it?" He raised a hand to forestall any protest. "I trust you, Hayate, but independent proof is always worth seeking."

"Maybe Shari. I think Rein or I would have to walk her through it, though." Hayate sounded dubious. "That would make anything she said tainted."

Chrono sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Hayate offered a helpless shrug, then turned more serious. "Your Mage Team Commander, though, he actually stood up to the clone for over a minute. That's quite impressive, Chrono. Take care of the boy."

Chrono smiled faintly. "You do know he's actually older than you, right Hayate?"


	4. Home Front

Because the only way to beat up Wolkenritter is with other Wolkenritter. Or lots of Combat Cyborgs. (That will be covered in _A Numbered Existence_.)

**Home Front  
**Something in the city that was in front of the window to the main teleport room exploded in a spectacular fashion as they stepped off the pad. It must have taken out a least a block by Hayate's reckoning. She had far too much practice at judging the extent of large-scale destruction from a distance than most people would regard as healthy for her age.

"Leave!" Vita swore. "Can I please just go on fucking leave!"

"_Not the time._" Hayate snapped as she summoned a holowindow "Control, this is Colonel Yagami. Where do you need us?"

The man on the other end looked rather surprised to see her, for reasons she would find out shortly as she flew to the only place that seemed to be issuing orders with any authority, the headquarters of the 108th Battalion.

It had fallen to Genya Nakajima to direct the battle. This was not an ideal solution; supposedly there was a Ground Forces brigadier general in overall command, but nobody had been able to find Brigadier Sollex yet. This was unfortunate.

Mainly because an asschewing from the Brigadier might have gotten some of his fellow battalion commanders to do something positive for the defense. 108th Battalion and 92nd Battalion were the only Ground Forces units actively contributing to the defense of the capital, and 92nd only because the major who was the unit's 2IC had relieved his superior for cowardice in the face of the enemy.

It was with pleasant surprise then that he met with Hayate in his command vehicle. "Colonel Yagami. We feared the worst."

"I saw. They're not my knights, Colonel." The attack was being conducted by a group of Wolkenritter, complete with and lead by a Reinforce. The _original_ Reinforce, red "warpaint" and black wings. "I'm going to divide my team and deal with two of them. Then reevaluate and seen what needs to be done from there."

Despite the best efforts of Ground Forces, they simply couldn't keep up with flight mages tactically. There were enough of them that they probably could have taken down even Wolkenritter, but classic blitzkrieg precluded that; by the time Ground Forces got there in numbers, it was too late and the Other-Wolkenritter were somewhere else. The Air Force wasn't numerous enough to deal with the problem, particularly such a well-coordinated problem with a habit of attacking any major grouping before it could reach the critical mass necessary to pose a threat.

"Take the Signum and the Shamal. We can't get close to either of them." Genya gestured to the map. "I've already got most of the Air Force troops left chasing the Zafira, and something special planned for the clone Vita."

Hayate examined the icons. "You weren't supposed to be able to call them in on your own."

"Blood is thicker than interpreting your duty to be 'let the city burn.' " Genya replied, with a momentary smile.

Hayate nodded and turned on one heel. "All right. We'll follow that plan." She looked over her shoulder. "What about the Reinforce?"

"The Navy has that covered." Genya assured her. Hayate wondered how, but didn't really have time to argue the point.

* * *

The Other-Wolkenritter might have been having a load of fun. In fact, by all appearances, they were. Unfortunately their idea of fun involved mass property damage and heavy casualities, and this simply would not do.

The first clue that playtime was over came in the form of three Navy starships come down from orbit. L-class cruiser _Mirach_, the last of her class under arms and sistership of the famous _Athra_, lead her younger M-class sisters _Caph _and _Noctis_ down to do battle with the Reinforce clone. Reinforce rose to meet them halfway. It was on the surface of it ridiculous. _Mirach_ weighed in at ten thousand tons, _Caph_ and _Noctis_ fifteen thousand each. No other single mage in existence could have even contemplated attacking a Bureau cruiser head-to-head. These ships could squash even the recognized best of the Bureau like Nanoha Takamachi or Signum like insects. Each ship's secondary weapons alone equalled a dozen S-ranked mages. Their starship wards could soak up magic that would destroy whole cities and barely care.

Three void-born gods of steel and magic to face the greatest demon any mage civilization had ever known; truly a battle worthy of legend. In its shadow, often literally as the Bureau ships shrouded the sun, all the lesser combats of today would be fought.

_This is going to be a mess._ Shamal's mind gave the impression of equal parts worry and determination, which were somehow not in direct conflict. _We can't take her alive._

_I'm done killing people._ Vita shot back, angry and annoyed. _I've done more than enough of that._

_I can cast with my hands bound and my arms broken. Signum said they are good copies; she probably can too. There is too much risk in trying to capture her, both to us and others._ Shamal didn't like it either, but duty before personal feelings.

_She is right, Vita._ Zafira put in. _I am not pleased with it either. But it is the only way._

Vita mentally harrumphed, which worked much better than when she did it verbally. _Fine, and-_ Sudden awareness flooded into her mind. _Uh. This is remarkably unpleasant having been away from it for long._

_Mental link reenergized I see. This will make things easier,_ Hayate commented.

_That means I have to…dammit!_ Vita swore. She was suddenly in the best posistion to coordinate in their group. _I hate being in command._

They tracked the false Shamal across the city, relying on her counterpart to guide them. It was a very high-stakes game of cat and mouse, and as Vita discovered, it was not always easy to tell the cat. She was nearly cut in half by a portal at one point, and was growing uncomfortably aware that Shamal might actually be the _most_ dangerous of them.

Other-Shamal couldn't keep them away forever, but she could do it for awhile. Vita jockeyed herself and Shamal around, looking for advantage, but let Zafira handle himself. She knew from practical experience the wolf could handle himself better than she could handle him. She still knew where he was and what he was doing, at least, so they weren't going to interfere with each other.

The Bureau had spent a lot of time and money trying to figure out how the Wolkenritter's link worked, for the simple reason that it offered unparalleled ability to coordinate actions between a group. They had failed, but that did not make the link any less deadly a weapon. Shamal and Vita fought Shamal's counterpart as something closer to two arms of the same entity than two separate mages. Zafira floated around the periphery, not often involving himself, but causing things to become quite awkward for Other-Shamal when he did. Vita and Shamal might wear the imposter down by repeated pressure, but the wolf sought to engineer a single knockout blow. Neither method was working so far, but Zafira seemed to be getting closer, given the overreaction he provoked when he was finally noticed each time.

The cut-and-thrust continued for perhaps seven minutes. Then there was a pause in which Vita and Shamal got much closer…and then a sharp satisfaction over the link from Zafira. He had gotten close enough. Vita didn't know exactly what had just happened, but she had the distinct impression it had involved teeth and someone's throat. She didn't want to know any more than that.

* * *

Hayate restrained herself from rebuking Vita for swearing about being in command. She had bigger problems. _Signum. Distract her. I'll set up something to end it._

_As ordered._ It might well be the same copy of herself Signum had seen before, or at least looked exactly the same. The real one regarded the imposter with a cold fury that managed to scare Agito witless. Agito had never seen, much less felt, the slow, cold, implacable hatred that Signum reserved for those she regarded as truly vile. The worst thing was that Signum was directing this at someone who looked almost exactly like her, which probably meant a great deal about how she thought of herself. It almost made Agito drop the UNISON just to get away from it.

Her doppelganger was smiling in an equally frightening way, which was why Agito didn't. In that one moment, the Unison Device was absolutely convinced that the soul existed, because its absence was the only possible explanation for how someone could smile like that with blood dripping off their sword. "Dreamland, isn't it?"

"**Schlangeform!**"

As the blade retracted back and Other-Signum clutched the forearm she'd let be injured rather than lose her neck instead, Signum gave her own chilly smile. "And I am the sort of nightmare that only begins when you wake."

"You will-" The beginning of an angry rant that Signum would have found childish and darkly amusing was abruptly terminated as Hayate lit off a Diabolic Emission from the street below. Other-Signum caught the edge of it, enough to hurt her badly, but dodged most. Then she teleported away, causing normally calm Hayate to mutter something decidedly unkind.

None of the Other-Wolkenritter besides the Signum clone got away. The Vita clone didn't even meet the real Vita, having been blasted down Wendi and Deici. Subaru, Cinque, and a gaggle of Air Force types had dealt with the fake Zafira. And the Reinforce clone went down in a crossfire between the three cruisers. The gods of steel and magic proved more powerful than the god of pure magery, but it had been a hard fight and _Noctis_ had actually crashed shortly after it was over; the cruisers had overdriven their secondary batteries, unable to hit Reinforce with their main guns and unable to kill her with their secondaries at normal power settings. _Noctis_' power system had not taken this well and the cruiser had been forced into a controlled crash just offshore of the city.

And Mid was in ruins all over again. The JS Incident once more, only this time a lot more people were hurt and killed because it hadn't been stopped at the city limits.

And because of that a lot more people were going to catch hell for this.


	5. Repercussions

I admit making up Sollex and Vult, but I can't find any particular information on who took over from Gaiz anyways. Anyways, next time we get back to the blatant pyschology studies with the Wolkenritter. Consider this a pyschology study on the Bureau as a whole.

**Repercussions**  
There were no other disasters in the universe tonight as far as the TSAB was concerned. There were no other crisises, no battles, no wars, nothing else that required the attention of the Bureau. Tonight the only thing the Bureau did was sift through the wreckage of Cranagan, to save the living if they could and recover the dead if they could not save the living. No one slept unless they collapsed on the spot from exhaustion, and half the time such people picked themselves up again anyways.

Signum was feeling useless. It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed, nor one she was particularly familiar with despite her immortality. She could only barely help with the rescue work. True, she was stronger than a normal human, and that was useful. So was her ability to go for a very long time without sleep. But it had been forty-eight hours now and survivors recovered from the wreckage were becoming very rare.

And her doppelganger was still out there.

_Signum._ Hayate's voice in her mind. _You are distracted._

_She is me. I know better than anyone the danger of that._ Signum replied. _Would you be comfortable if you knew there was a second you running around killing people?_

_There's more to it than that._ Hayate didn't buy it. Signum was not one to rattle easily, or as far as Hayate knew, at all.

_I…_ A long pause. Signum was struggling to find a way to say it without making reference to her past, and failing. _She is what I used to be, and that is horror enough. I __**must**__ kill her. Permanently. She is too dangerous for anything else. As long as she lives people will suffer and die._

Hayate fell silent and stared at her senior knight. The raw conviction in that phrase…and the commentary on someone she was acknowledging as identical to herself. Hayate was suddenly unsured she had ever understood Signum at all. Hayate knew more about the Wolkenritter's past exploits then she had ever let on, but this was something new.

* * *

Chrono Harlaown wondered, idly, how long he'd been awake now. 72 hours at least. No end in sight yet either. He could ask one of his aides about it, and get a correct answer too, since the aides had gotten a chance to sleep switching off duties, but it wasn't so interesting to him he felt the need yet. The crisis wasn't over yet, but the heads were already rolling.

Last time Genya Nakajima had unwittingly provided his superiors an out and they could claim they had planned for his unordered, brillant defense of Mid. This time, though the Nakajima clan had once again covered themselves in glory, pretty much every other responsible Ground Forces officer had screwed up in ways that made Chrono's head hurt. This kind of systemic failure was simply unprecedented in the Bureau's history. It would have been bad enough if they had simply been incompetent, which some of them were, but there were cowardice charges being thrown around and from where Chrono was sitting some of them looked justified. One had already been substantiated in effect if not in practice, when a battalion second in command had relieved his commanding officer in mid-battle.

Something had gone systematically wrong with Ground Forces. Maybe something had _always_ been wrong with it if this was the end result. Chrono was a Bureau man to the core. The fact that rot was embedded this deep in any part of the organization he had dedicated his life to made the TSAB's youngest admiral extremely unhappy.

He looked around the room. The big three, of course, the Three Admirals. General Vult, overall head of Ground Forces after Regius Gaiz's death. Leti Lowran, who currently commanded Starburst Station and had more or less emptied Headquarters to assist in the rescue and relief efforts. Brigadier Sollex, who had yet to move or speak since Chrono had arrived. Sollex knew his career was over, and nothing he could do or say at this point would change that; he was a broken man.

Also present was Carim Gracia, which was somewhat unheard of. The Bureau and the Saint Church had what might best be described as "cultural differences" between them. The Bureau thought the Saint Church schizophrenically praised peace while encouraging the Belkan fascination with strength of arms. The Saint Church saw in the Bureau the potentional for many of the things the Sankt Kaiser had dedicated her life to fighting. That both sides were correct did not exactly help. Still, despite what their respective organizations might think, Carim had won Chrono's respect and he was not a man who suffered fools gladly. He directed a friendly nod to Carim and received one in return.

Chrono's attention was dragged back to the matter at hand as General Vult proposed locking the Wolkenritter up until such time as the existence of their doppelgangers could be explained. Chrono stared at the man, resisting the urge to burst out with a "Are you mad?"

Admiral Mizetto did not resist that urge. "General, you are aware you are suggesting we give up the only weapon in our arsenal that can prevent a repeat of this, yes?" She hammered a fist into the table with surprising force for someone of her age. _"Are you insane, man?"_ Then, in a calmer tone: "The Wolkenritter did as much as anyone to resolve this situation and they have worked without sleep since it to try and put things right. The Bureau will _not_ descend to the level of locking up those who have loyally served it for no concrete reason."

"There is a practical side." Carim's tone suggested dry amusement. "How do you propose to contain four of the most powerful and skilled mages in existence? The Wolkenritter cannot be properly disarmed; if you take away their Devices they can merely call them back. Do you really wish to upset them and Colonel Yagami with the formality of imprisonment?"

Chrono had the distinct feeling General Vult might find himself out of a job very soon as well. At this rate, Genya Nakajima might find himself commanding Ground Forces by week's end. The worst thing was that in comparison to the alternatives, that seemed fairly sane.

One of Chrono's aides handed him a note. Final casuality tallies, for the servicemembers at least; they were still digging civilians out of the rubble. Three hundred twenty-two Ground Forces, fifty-nine Air Force, thirty-two Navy including the entirety of Mage Team 26. "We need to recall all our active S-rank or better mages and keep them on standby, anyone who can effectively stand up to a Wolkenritter. They attacked Mid, but that doesn't mean it's the only place they can attack."

The collective shudder that ran around the table said much. Only Sollex didn't react at all. Admiral Lowran shook her head at that. "In any case, is there any news on the hunt for the one that got away?"

Chrono sighed. "She's still on the planet. We have enough ships in orbit we would have noticed a teleport powerful enough to get her offworld, and we have reason to believe," Signum herself had gone out of her way to tell Chrono of this directly, "that she couldn't manage it on her own anyways. Beyond that, it's anyone's guess. The orders are out to look for and be careful about her. Relief and rescue has priority at the moment."

_Chrono._ Admiral Lowran, at a guess. He tuned out Vult's take on the relief operations for a moment to pay attention. _Do you see a way we can avoid ripping Ground Force's command structure apart after this?_

_No ma'am. But…_ Chrono paused, considering his wording. _I am still not sure it is wise. If we do what seems correct now, we will do serious, perhaps irreperable harm to their morale. We would be tearing out their soul in effect. I don't see any way around it, but…we could well destroy that service branch trying to save it._

Mage Team 70 had just come off a two-day shift sifting through the rubble in downtown Cranagan. They were just rolling into their bunks and looking forward, as only someone who has just pulled a two-day shift can, to a full eight hours of sleep, when the alarm went off and they were forced to roll back out of their bunks and sprint for the _Uhlan_'s teleport chamber. A small town near Clanagan had just called for help.

One would win no prizes for guessing why.

The street was silent. People had locked their doors and scattered into the far corners of their basements. It hadn't been fast enough for some, though. Team 70 followed the bodies to a building, and then the first two swept into the entry room.

Heinrich swung out of the way of thrust that would have killed him, but the reverse cut took him down with a bad chest wound. Samuel dodged and then found he had no need to dodge anymore; his opponent had moved back. He leveled his blade at her.

"I do not want to do this." Other-Signum said. "I would rather prefer I talk to you. You do not come back from dying like me."

Samuel wasn't buying that argument considering the state of the room; there was blood everywhere, and bits of..._meat,_ since his brain could not really identify what they had once been and didn't really want to.

There was also the minor matter his section partner was on the floor and might soon bleed to death without medical help. "Activation."

"**Release granted 29 hours ago for single use. ****Activation accepted.**" Steelheart intoned.

"Wai-"

"**Deathblow.**" And reality tore asunder.

* * *

They all felt it. A dimensional cataclysm, even a very small one, is an unmistakeable experience to a mage within a few hundred kilometers of it. It starts as a sensation of pins and needles on the neck, then rapidly develops to one of something clawing at their neck and back. It only lasted a few seconds, and moments later there came a confirmation from the command center that all was still well, that had been intentional.

Signum knew what that meant. Somebody was fielding things the Bureau kept under lock and key usually. They had indeed taken the situation seriously. Regardless, her orders were to close in on the problem in case it hadn't been enough.

It had, and somehow she was not surprised to find the Mage Commander again. She was, however, curious to note that he only carried his usual Device. The Deathblow function hadn't been manufactured or installed in a Device in fifty years, which meant al-Faddil was carrying a weapon that couldn't possibly have been his originally. The vague familarity about Steelheart nagged at her again, and she resolved to ask a few questions of someone who would know about the age of the Device.

"She said she would come back?" Signum asked. Samuel nodded. "Another Book, then. She will not forgive you for this." Signum said.

"I know." Samuel replied. "I'm pretty much dead if I stay anywhere on Mid. Pretty much dead period, maybe."

"Not anywhere. Not quite." Signum replied, with uncharacteristic softness.


	6. Happy Family Wolkenritter Fluffy Bit 1

I am completely and utterly making up the mental link's capablities, limitations, and its things-that-aren't-limitations-but-still-suck. I'm aware there's probably canon to contradict the assertion that the Wolkenritter can't stand to touch even each other but for purposes of drama we're pretending it's explained away due to some brilliant reasoning on my part and they've been completely screwed out of any meaningful possiblity of a romantic relationship until post-Hayate when they could interact with normal people.  
I do not apologize for the fact I'm going to continue to screw them out of such relationships for at least five chapters and possibly forever. (When you get right down to it, I think they're just far too intimidating and probably wrapped up in baggage too.)

**Happy Family Wolkenritter Fluffy Bit, Part 1  
**Chrono had gladly approved a weekend's leave for almost everyone involved in the final takedowns, now that the crisis was over after just short of a week. Samuel had been difficult to move away from the hospital where his teammember was being treated, but Signum had prevailed upon him early that afternoon to come with her. He was presenting a target here, after all, and there was the safety of the many other people to count on as well.

The Yagami residence was relatively small for housing four adults and Vita, but did not create an impression of being cramped, even though all four adults plus Vita plus Samuel himself were present downstairs when Samuel came through door. There was a sense of warmth to the place, a feeling that people actually _lived_ here, and a sort of comfortable family air. Considering that Hayate and the Wolkenritter were barely home three months a year, this was no mean feat.

"Hey Boob Monster-" Vita began as she started to turn, then she saw there was someone besides Signum coming through the door. Her mouth worked for a second more before she shut it again.

Signum's hands visibly twitched in response to Vita's _faux pas_, making it clear who the junior knight was addressing. "Not asking." Samuel stage-whispered. The pause in everyone's movement was rather awkward as the remaining two Wolkenritter and Hayate registered Samuel's presence.

There was a lot of silent non-movement which Samuel assumed must be the Wolkenritter and Hayate conversing mentally. He stationed himself a respectful distance from most of the inhabitants of the house, though slightly closer to Signum, and politely pretended to be interested in what they had been watching on the entertainment system before he came in. After a couple minutes, Zafira, back in his wolf form, swung himself around so he wasn't occupying a whole couch and gave a little jerk of the head to indicate Samuel should come over.

"I hear you've got a story worth telling." Zafira said. The others were still busy mentally conversing.

Samuel sat down next to Zafira and started talking. The male Wolkenritter was, by all appearances, actually quite interested. But he was partially covering. _Keep talking. I take it you've realized by now Signum did not seek permission._ The wolf's mind was friendly but reserved; a controlled, measured warmth not given to rash thought or behavior.

Samuel continued his verbal description of recent events while he picked up the telepathic conversation. _Yes. That seems rather…subversive, for her._ Picturing the senior Wolkenritter with a subversive grin resulted in a brief mental short-circuit; Samuel's brain refused to assemble the image because it was impossible.

Zafira apparently found the situation quietly amusing, judging from the tone of his response. _It is. We usually feel the need to remind ourselves once in a long while that we have independence even from Hayate…but if that is what Signum is doing, it is a first._ Zafira nodded in response to Samuel's verbal description of how he had fought the Vita clone briefly when _Uhlan_ had arrived for the tail end of the battle, helping herd it towards Dieci and Wendi. _Perhaps Signum simply likes you?_ Even in his head, Zafira sounded like he doubted it. That sort of thing was locked out of Signum's mind, locked out of her body. She no longer reacted to it consciously or unconsciously.

Samuel didn't know Signum well enough to know that, but he knew her by reputation: she had no time for anyone who was interested in defrosting the ice queen, or for romance at all. _I'm not crazy enough to buy that, and neither are you._

"Self-deprecating a bit, but correct." Zafira said, summing up both conversations. His voice appeared to startle Shamal, who looked rapidly in that direction.

Signum, meanwhile, had been justifying herself. Or rather, not justifying herself. She did not defend; she attacked, putting the question on Vita and Shamal's objections to her action, rather than defend her own decision. As debating tactics went, it was a good one: Shamal was not accustomed to having to vehemently defend her posistion, and while Vita did it almost as second nature, her vehemence got in the way of successful articulation. But more importantly, she put the question to Hayate. _Am I considered responsible enough to do this of my own accord?_

Hayate had the unpleasant sensation she was suddenly standing at the edge of a cliff. She had never before found a situation that presented any real risk one or all of her knights would lose their respect for her, but deciding against Signum here ran that risk. Vita and Shamal were both strongly committed to their arguments, emotionally invested for reasons she knew without letting the Wolkenritter be aware of that. But Signum had cut to the core; did Hayate consider her a responsible person, an _adult_?

Hayate Yagami loved her knights. She considered the Wolkenritter to be in a very real sense her children. They had spent millenia bombarded by evil, surrounded by worlds that hated them. It fell to Hayate to raise them again, to break the habits, to remind them that there was goodness in people and that to care and be cared for was not weakness. Signum was in a sense the greatest success and the worst failure. She could best integrate into normal society of them all. But she fought not to acknowledge her past on a conscious level, even if it was a battle she couldn't win. Signum feared nothing besides a return to the old ways, Hayate thought, because that one fear was so intense as to render all the normal sort of fears meaningless.

Children grow up, Hayate told herself. _You do, Signum. All of you do. Though, if you all intend to bring someone home at once, I will have to look into a bigger house._ Signum had not yet explained _why_ Samuel was staying for several days, and Hayate would speak privately to her about that later. Like Zafira, and Samuel himself for that matter, Hayate didn't believe there was anything romantic to it. Shamal and Vita didn't _want_ to believe that, which was a whole different problem. Then Zafira spoke to Samuel.

Shamal started, stood, and made her way rapidly the kitchen. Signum's eyes followed the Knight of the Lake and the senior Wolkenritter's worry she had pushed too hard, done something that had not after all been right, rolled over the mental link. Vita sputtered a bit and finally turned a glare on Samuel as ultimately the cause of all this, only to get a glare right back. Her lips slipped upward a bit and finally she had to smile. They'd done the same thing to each other the first time they'd met, Vita had been angry about something else and just glared, so he had glared right back, showing he wasn't afraid. Vita respected that. Ever since then she'd found it difficult to glare at the man because she knew it just didn't work. You couldn't _threaten_ to kick al-Faddil's ass, he didn't respond to threats. You had to prove you were willing and able to carry through.

"I seem to be causing you trouble." Samuel was addressing Hayate. "Should I be prepared to leave?"

Hayate smiled her best Reassuring Smile and shook her head. "This is not personal. Shamal has had a lot on her mind lately, she will come around." It was a little white lie to the other Wolkenritter, and a big white lie to Hayate and to Samuel himself. Hayate _knew_ why Shamal was so upset with a non-Wolkenritter male in the house. Samuel had a fairly good idea, but couldn't prove it. But neither of them believed any good could from the Wolkenritter knowing their pasts were open books, so both pretended not to understand.

Upstairs there was a crash and yelling. Signum and Hayate exchanged glances and headed that way. Vita turned back to the show, but it had just ended. Samuel, meanwhile, noticed a number of game systems hooked up to the set. "You imported a full set of consoles from Earth."

Vita grinned. "Sure did. Lastest releases in just over a week."

Signum arrived downstairs again, with a somewhat-ruffled Agito. That actually brought a faint smile to Samuel's face. The all-powerful people had normal problems to go with the all-powerful problems.

Agito flew over, wearing a sweater and some kind of skirt that looked like they had seen better days. "You again?"

The response was a raised eyebrow. "Don't sound too happy, I might get the idea I'm welcome or something."

The Unison Device poked the Commander in the nose. "Don't get snippy with me or I'll singe your eyebrows, buddy."

Samuel actually laughed, just once. "If you get snippy with me, can I singe your eyebrows too? Fair is fair."

Agito actually stopped to consider that one. "Okay, I won't singe your eyebrows. But your clothes might be mysteriously burned in the night. If mine get mysteriously burned that will just answer some of my prayers."

Samuel shifted in his seat so he didn't have to turn his head to address the Unison device. "I'm sure something can be arranged…"

Zafira chuckled. This would be interesting. Signum, meanwhile, wondered if the house would burn down in the night.

* * *

It was now late afternoon. Agito had flown back upstairs to put her personal space back together, Vita was in the kitchen with Hayate and Rein, Zafira appeared to be napping, and Samuel and Signum sat at a table. They had started off talking about sword technique, a subject with which they both had at least a passing familiarity. That had developed into places they had both visited. Hayate, listening in from the kitchen, was mildly shocked to hear Signum discuss a world she had visited before meeting Hayate. And from there it went to the Wolkenritter themselves. And how lonely it must have been, which had Hayate listening _very hard_ indeed. And possibly sneaking a look in that direction quite often.

"You have each other." Samuel observed.

"Yes and no. Take my hand." Signum said. Mystified, Samuel did so. "Do you feel anything?"

"Nervous," was his reply.

That almost made Signum smile, which Vita detected thanks to the link and directed some mental teasing at her for. "But you do not feel anything via a link between us. Neither do I." Signum let go of his hand. "Between Wolkenritter, this is not the case. Skin touches skin and we feel everything, know everything. We have no secrets, we know all of each other's thoughts, feelings, and memories. Even physical sensation is shared. We can control the link normally, keep some things private if we wish, and never share sensation. Not so when we touch. It is…unpleasant. Only Zafira in his wolf form is immune, and Hayate of course."

"You basically lose everything that makes you an individual." Samuel's expression suggested a mild-to-medium level of horror at the thoughts occuring to him. "The people you truly know, the people you truly trust, you can't touch." His expression and tone shifted to a mixture of awe and rage. "And someone _designed_ this? I'm not sure whether the malice aforethought or the blind stupidity option is more horrifying."

Signum shifted slightly, reassesing the Navy mage. Most people did their best not to acknowledge the Wolkenritter were constructs; it was simply easier for them to pretend the Wolkenritter were regular people with supranormal abilities. They were _used_ to regular people with supranormal abilities because they were used to mages. Only Hayate, and strangely enough Nanoha, really acknowledged them as not human. Hayate only did so occasionally; the knowledge was clearly there but it was also just as clear that their Mistress had become quite adroit at working around having to acknowledge the fact out loud. Nanoha simply didn't care, which was apparently Samuel's stance as well. "So we only have Hayate. And to be honest, we are not that…flexible, for the most part." A small lie. They had lived long enough to erase such concepts; affection was where you found it and they were not likely to care about the who and the where. Or at least, that was a working theory that the Wolkenritter would endorse. Unfortunately, they also had ten thousand years of horrifying masters with horrifying demands for their servants. Not all of those demands had been to kill or maim.

Hayate was fine with the fact none of her knights had hit on her. They were her children in her mind and frankly that was just creepy. She slipped across the room trying not to disturb the two, looking out the window on a whim. Then she stopped and frowned. "Tour party."

The audible sigh from Signum counted as a fairly deep show of emotion. "They should know better by now." The Bureau had quite strict laws on privacy rights. The simple reason for this was that angry mages were far more capable of killing someone on a whim then normal people, so hoping that they only punched a paparazzi in the face was a risk no one was willing to take.

"Does Signum ever wear her hair down?" Samuel asked of Vita, as the senior knight swept out of the house to go deal with the gawkers.

Vita failed to restrain a grin. "Why, you curious about how it looks?"

Samuel shook his head. "I can visualize it well enough to kill my interest. I like the ponytail, makes her look more like she should be taken seriously. I'm just curious as to whether it's a work thing or a personal preference."

"Personal preference." Vita replied. "And it's just as well you didn't want to see that, she killed the last guy who saw her with her hair down."

That got a raised eyebrow, but no verbal request for more information. "So what kind of games do you play on these things?"

Agito drifted back downstairs to find Vita and Samuel embroiled in a heated match of…something. She wasn't really sure what the games were named and such considering she couldn't play them. And Rein could, which only increased her disdain.

"Hey! I wonder if I can unison with _you!_" Agito said suddenly, looking at her new co-conspirator to rebuild her wardrobe.

Samuel's head snapped left to look at the Unison device. "You're not serious."

Agito flew over and poked the Navy mage in the nose. "Why shouldn't I be, wise guy?"

"I'm not even sure that _could_ work. I don't practice a Belkan style, I have about as much Belkan blood in me as this couch," Vita over on the sideline of the discussion frowned at that, nobody'd been bleeding on the couch and she knew for a fact that Samuel was quarter-Belkan, "and I'm neither a Wolkenritter nor was I hooked into an all-powerful magical artifact first. Do _you_ want to explain to Signum why one or both of us are currently in the hospital or dead?" Samuel's head snapped back to the game. "Aww crap, now you made me die."

Vita grinned. "Nice work, Agito!"

"Two out of three." Samuel shot back.

"You're on."

Agito considered and decided to place a few calls first. Just to be safe.

* * *

It was late now, and the Yagami household was asleep, in theory. Hayate herself was still awake, though she had looked in on each of her knights already. Shamal was charging cartridges; they didn't need that, but it was something Shamal often did when she was trying to clear her mind prior to sleep. Hayate had also noted someone had taken Shamal's usual bedsheets. Signum and Agito's door had been locked, as it often was at night. Zafira was the only one who still slept in the same room as her, and he had been sound asleep in wolf form at the foot of her bed. Vita likewise slept, though in her own room now, something she had decided to start doing several years ago. Rein also had her own room these days, suited for her child-sized form though the overall feel of the room was far from childlike.

Samuel slept on the couch, with, Hayate noted, the sheets from Shamal's bed. Hayate actually smiled at that, knowing that the man was not so crazy as to seek that kind of petty revenge…but Rein would. Leave it to Rein to feel the need to "punish" Shamal for being unkind to a guest, and the ability to get away with it by being the one being in the universe the Wolkenritter literally could not raise a hand against. She padded on to the kitchen.

"He sleeps well." Signum had fought too long, in too many situations, not to have mastered the art of remaining perfectly still and quiet when at rest; Hayate never had completely adapted to that habit of her knights and they still managed to startle her on occasion. "You would think he had not seen someone who looks exactly like me do all of…that."

Hayate drew out a chair for herself and sat, careful not to make noise. "He has faith. He believes in the basic goodness and dignity of people, that everyone deserves a chance. Perhaps they'll use their chance before he meets them; perhaps they individually are neither good nor dignified. But he still has faith in the whole." Hayate offered up a smile. "Does that sound familiar?"

Signum nodded, her ponytail swaying and catching the light from both of Midchilda's moons. "Like you, mistress."

Hayate shook her head slowly. "This isn't a 'Mistress' conversation, Signum, we are just friends at the moment. Tell me, why did you bring him here? He could have gone back to Starburst and gone on immediate deployment. As a moving target, no one would have ever found him. Chrono would have gladly arranged it, the Navy takes care of its own."

"I could not countance throwing him back into combat right after seeing…all that." Signum was as disturbed as anyone by what her doppelganger had done. But the reasons why it disturbed her were rather different. "You cannot throw someone to the wolves again and again without giving them some chance to recover." It was a conviction Signum held very strongly, for the simple reason that she _had_ been thrown to the wolves without chance to recover, over and over, for several thousand years. The only reason she had never gone incurably insane was that a Wolkenritter was literally unable to; being a construct and not a conventional person had advantages. It was a fate she would wish on no other, save perhaps on those who had done the throwing. Signum however doubted it would have bothered them the way it had her.

"And what do you believe about people, Signum?" Hayate asked softly.

"Self-sacrifice. Altruism. Courage." Signum said softly. "It would be hard to believe anything different. I fought those very things for millenia. Masters and mistresses came and went. Some wanted power, some revenge, others slaughter for its own sake, or host of other things. The constant was always those who threw down their lives without hesistation to stop us." It was the first time she had ever spoken openly of her time before she'd met Hayate. "I grew up being told of the value of those things, but I doubt any other life could have so demonstrated it."

"That settles my fears." Hayate replied.

Signum's tone suggested mild surprise. "You have fears?"

Hayate laughed softly, just once. "Of course I have fears. I often worry that you all might be just…humoring me, about reformation."

Signum visibly shuddered. "No, Hayate. We've wanted this for longer than you can know."

Hayate reached across the table and gave one of Signum's hands a brief squeeze. "You are welcome, Signum." Hayate's hand pulled back again quickly. Signum appreciated gestures of support, but she also disliked being touched for any real length of time.

Signum gestured toward the living room, changing the subject. "He seems comfortable here. I was worried about that."

Hayate nodded. "He even seems to enjoy it. And Vita certainly enjoys his company. She asked me if we could keep him before she went to bed."

"Agito thinks much the same. She even tried to convince him to try a UNISON." Signum considered that…ill-advised. Unison devices were so rare that even the Wolkenritter had no clear idea of their capablities and limitations. "Of course, if he can get along with Agito and Vita, the rest of us are simple."

"Except Shamal." Hayate noted. "Is there some kind of past history I am not aware of here?"

"The deployment we went on with Team Seventy they shared a couple of watches. She did not seem upset with him then." Signum replied. Then, to Hayate's surprise, a sweeping, frustrated hand gesture, "Of all of us, she should know better. He is a _guest_."

Signum's control always impressed Hayate. Though her expression was still in shadow, Hayate knew she must be scowling. Being able to actually feel the level of Signum's anger over the mental link, Hayate also knew that if she had been as mad as the senior Wolkenritter she would be screaming at somebody. "She will come around. Good night, Signum."

A deferential slight bow of the head. "Good night."


	7. Some Answers

Shorter and not as fluffy. Yes, you could technically assume Nanofate, but only because I think there's a better case for it by the post-StrikerS point in canon. I'm not a shipper; I evaluate relationships rationally. Shocking, I know. (To be honest I think that Yuuno demoted to extra was a business decision rather than a realistic take on character. However it's their canon to define, if they go "lulz creator fiat" I've got to clean up after them rather than ignore them. Where I started this story I can go "lulz creator fiat" on _ViVid_ or _Force_ if they get in my way; fair is fair.)  
We get back to the stuff blowing up next time, and I'll try to make that longer so I can deal with even amounts of insane explosions produced by beam weaponry and the characters interacting.

**Some Answers (But Not Many)  
**Nanoha and Fate had gotten in early this morning and dropped by Hayate's house to make the unoffical inquiries that would naturally go with their official ones. Caro had tagged along, not because she had been classified as S-rank herself yet, but because somebody had recognized that Voltaire was big and mean enough to cause even Wolkenritter problems.

They arrived to find the Yagami residence quite awake and bustling with activity, though to their thinly-concealed dismany both Vita and Signum were out of the house. All that Hayate had to say on the subject was that two were "Escorting a family friend." Nanoha took it at face value but wasn't sure who that could be, while Fate was convinced that it must be a read-between-the-lines code, a relic of Hayate's and Nanoha's Japanese upbringing.

"So Hayate-chan, about these fakes?" Nanoha asked.

Hayate made a face. "They're not fakes, Nanoha. Rein can explain it better than I."

No surprise there. The Unison Device, being also the physical incarnation of the Book of the Night Sky, was more knowledgeable on the subject of Wolkenritter than anyone. "A Wolkenritter is meant to adapt. Because Hayate has encouraged their independence, their connection with the Book atrophied; it was another level of control and Hayate did not want to control them. But the Book is not supposed to adapt because it's far too powerful to risk unintended consequences. The slots for the Wolkenritter to connect to are still there, but they were not using them. The 'fakes' did."

Fate's eyes widened. "They're connected to the Book right now?"

Hayate made a patting-the-air gesture to calm her. "No. The Book recognized corruption in their core processes and fought them. They never got access to anything. However, when they died, the Book also did the one thing it could to ensure they wouldn't ever get access. It forcibly reconnected my Wolkenritter."

Nanoha leaned forward. "Corruption how?"

Hayate again looked to Rein, but the Unison Device faltered. "Rein could tell you what was corrupted, but it doesn't mean anything clear. Parts of their progam are missing or made of junk, but nothing they truly need. Rein does know their mental patterns were also abnormal, but that may not be related."

"In plain langauge they're crazy?" Nanoha interjected.

"Probably." Rein conceded. "How exactly Rein wouldn't know. The Vita one and the Shamal one were different from the others for example. It's tempting to guess based on what they did though. The Signum one seemed to be enjoying herself."

Caro's eyes appeared about ready to pop out of her head. "This is really bad, isn't it?"

Fate looked worried. "Another Book of Darkness. It would be."

"If they had their own book, they wouldn't be connecting to mine." Hayate said. Then a frown. "Probably. Only most of a Book, enough to manifest them."

Nanoha grinned faintly. "So I guess we have to ask them ourselves."

Shamal, listening in from the kitchen, restrained a comment on that being Nanoha's normal mode of operation. The conversation turned to small talk, three friends catching up, and then the two aces left to go pick up Vivio from school. The day wasn't over yet though, as another old friend dropped by.

* * *

Yunno Scrya tugged at his new uniform. He didn't feel comfortable in it at all; he'd never had to wear a uniform before. Even in his active-duty days with the Bureau he'd been a probationary agent rather than a formal servicemember. Chrono was quite insistant however, and the TSAB _did_ technically have the ability to draft any citizen mage to active military service. It just didn't exercise that ability often.

He sighed, then noticed that there were people in front of his destination. Signum he recognized, but not the man standing next to her. "Excuse me."

A practiced once-over from the man, someone used to determining rank and service. "Can I help you Lieutenant…? Oh." Apparently he was recognized.

Yuuno looked decidely embaressed but he did manage a shakey salute for the Navy mage. To his surprise, it was returned by both of them. Signum appeared amused, but the man snapped a perfect salute, all seriousness.

"It's been some time, Yuuno." Signum didn't offer to shake his hand. She never did. The senior Wolkenritter did offer a slight bow, really a forward inclination of her head, as a gesture of respect. Yuuno Scrya wasn't famous, true. But that didn't make him any less good. Signum could count the number of people who had ever stood off a Wolkenritter purely with defensive magic on one hand. "I see Chrono was serious about 'anyone who can fight a Wolkenritter' being recalled to active duty."

"I'm never going to get over the fact you refer to my boss by his first name," the man said. Then he did offer a hand. "Samuel al-Faddil." The name suited him. His skin tone was darker than Belkan or Midchildan norm, and his hair black.

"Earthborn, arabic?" Yuuno hazarded, shaking the man's hand.

"Close. My father was. What brings you here?"

"I have to talk to Hayate. It seems I'm being assigned to her command." Yuuno replied.

"We were just about to go in anyways." Signum opened the door. No locks, no keys; Shamal sealed the house magically when they were on deployment, and no one would be so insane as to rob them anyways.

"Signum, you just missed Nanoha and Fate!" Hayate called from the kitchen. She and Caro emerged from it a moment later.

"And how surreal would you like your day to be?" Samuel muttered to no one in particular. Yuuno got the feeling he must be a recent acquaintance of the Wolkenritter and their mistress, if he wasn't used to the company they kept.

"But I found someone else." Signum replied.

Hayate was, of course, not at all surprised to see Yuuno. It was a bit…taxing, to have all her knights connected to her again. The human brain wasn't really meant to handle this degree of input, but at least the Bureau and Shamal had determined there wasn't any danger. "It's been a long time, Yuuno. Chrono drafted you into this too? And only a lieutenant. That's a big reduction in rank."

The Chief Librarian of the Infinite Library did not, on the surface, appear to be a powerful posistion in the Bureau heirarchy. However, the Chief Librarian by the nature of their posistion actually was one of the few people in the Bureau it would be absolutely fatal to cross. This was because they _knew_ things, ranging from the merely embaressing to the sort of stuff that could cause rioting in the streets. Yuuno had been chosen for the job because of his personality; he was morally sound, even-tempered, and not interested in power. He was the perfect Chief Librarian of the Infinite Library because he wouldn't rock the boat but would still help the Bureau police itself.

This didn't mean he was without teeth. "If it had been for anything else…" Yuuno offered a helpless shrug. "But I can look out my window. This sort of thing must be stopped."

"You still have a window, ferretboy?" Vita interjected, arriving home from a brief side-errand.

"Being a master of defensive magic has some uses." Yuuno replied.

"More now." Samuel interjected. "It'd be fair to say you're about as important to the mission as you'll ever get."

Yuuno looked confused for a moment, but Hayate visibly winced. "That's true. If they're real, they reincarnate. But our people do not."

"Worst-case scenario attritional combat. You can't afford to lose anyone winning because they don't actually suffer losses at all. Scyra's mastery of defensive magic makes him the most able to keep your people from dying, and the most important piece of whatever puzzle you put together." Samuel looked to Hayate. "I don't envy you this assignment."

"Technically, it's not my assignment." Hayate replied. "Too much mage rank for someone like me to command. The unit is under Admiral Mizetto. I'm just a field commander."

Samuel shrugged and stood up from the spot on a couch he'd taken, at the opposite end from where Yuuno had eventually sat down. Or rather been tripped into place surrepitiously by Hayate. "I'll be in another room. This is all probably above my clearance anyways."

Hayate waved him back down. "You'll find out anyways, just like everyone else. And you are more familiar with the Navy, its force structure, than I am. You can tell me how sane this sounds. The Navy is going to have two cruisers and a battleship orbiting every adminstrated world in a week or so. We'll be stationed here on Mid near the teleport array, to deploy wherever we're needed rapidly."

Samuel whistled softly. "That's a lot of the Fleet, nearly the entire battleship force. The K-class battleships were in the middle of a drawdown prior to decommissioning now that the M-class is in service. They're going to have to put that on hold I guess."

"How much of the cruiser force?" Hayate asked.

Samuel closed his eyes for a few moments before replying as he wracked his brain. "I can't swear to it, mind you. I haven't sat down and counted them in awhile. But…one L-class still in service, just over a hundred and fifty N-class with about twenty more due to enter service in the next three months. If Fleet is really strapped, they can probably bring five or ten of L-class ships back before they're scrapped and convert _Athra_ back from a museum ship."

Hayate nodded slowly, an unpleasant thought forming. "The level of patrols is going to be under a third of what it was." She sighed. "Maybe I can talk Admiral Mizetto down a bit."

Caro looked between the two uncomprehending, but Yuuno, though he wasn't really military, could do the math as well as anyone. The rest of the galaxy was going to have to help itself for awhile. It only added to a bad mood forming from the fact he'd be working with Nanoha, and hence reminded of his mistakes constantly, again.

Signum noticed. "Yuuno?"

Yuuno tried to wave it off. "Nothing. Well, nothing that hasn't occurred to the rest of you already."

"Umm…" Caro put in. "Not all of us."

Yuuno smiled at the girl. Truth be told, she reminded him a little of Fate at that age, with her particular mannerisms. That made far too much sense of course, since she was Fate's daughter. "Nothing for you to worry about at your mage rank, Miss ru Lushe."

* * *

It was the end of the weekend off, and they were aboard Starburst Station, Bureau headquarters, in a room that looked out over the docks.

Samuel shook hands with Signum and Hayate, who were there to see him off on the senior Wolkenritter's insistence. "It was a pleasure, Ma'am, Dame Signum."

Hayate shook her head. He was in on-duty mode again and would only refer to them formally. "You know you needn't be so formal after having shared our house."

"The Fleet is my country, and I will do what it has asked of me." Samuel gestured to the docks, the cruisers and battleships moored. "I was born in the Fleet, I'll die in the Fleet. It's an honorable fatherland, Colonel."

"You really believe you'll die in the service?" Hayate asked.

"A Mage Team's job is to go into the unknown and make it safe for others, Ma'am. This carries with it the virtual certainity that eventually I will be sent to do something that turns out to be impossible." A sardonic grin. "We all need a refuge against our own deaths. I'm too smart to be convinced of my immortality, so I mostly get by on fatalism."

Hayate nodded slowly and filed this conversation away for future reference, the better to understand her allies.


	8. Invasion

**Invasion  
**Administrated World #67, Ligeia, was the most recent joiner to the Bureau. It might be more accurate to say that it had never _not_ been a part of the Bureau; it was a colony world, its industry mainly in mining and refining various metals for some of the older Bureau worlds which no longer had easily reached deposits. The planet had yet to develop land-based animal life, but it had an oxygen-rich atmosphere from plants and sea life.

It was thus an easy target in comparison to any other Administrated World, with a low population and minimal Ground Forces/Air Force presence despite the trio of warships that now orbited it. No one was greatly surprised when it was attacked.

Hayate waved Nanoha and Fate onto the teleport platform impatiently, Caro again tagging along with them. Shamal simply relayed herself onto the teleporter pad via her own teleportation magic, and they were off. Yuuno scrambled into the room with his uniform out of order since the call had come during a sleep cycle for him, then he was in his old Barrier Jacket again. The sight gave Hayate a weird sense of déjà vu; it had been years since she had seen Yuuno ready for action. Rein was with him, and Vita. That was the last, the rest of her small command having already teleported to the battle, so she took her own place on the teleport pad as well.

Teleportation didn't _feel _like anything, something Hayate had never understood. She UNISON'd with Rein and called up a holowindow as she flew towards the sound of explosions, orienting herself and planning how to deploy the mages at her disposal.

* * *

N-class battleship _Medea _had already sent her attendant cruisers down to help deal with the attack. The cruisers _Enif_ and _Kochab _were engaging the Reinforce that had shown up, but the battleship remained on station in high orbit. The temporary flagship of Admiral Mizetto until the crisis was over, she was acting as a teleporter relay for the evacuation of the mining works that had been attacked…and in the worst case, if the situation went completely bad, to recover the Bureau team currently fighting the Other-Wolkenritter.

"Starship contact just emerged from the Dimensional Sea. No identity broadcast. Configuration is…" There was a long pause. "Captain, it's not one of ours military or civilian. The configuration doesn't match anything in our computers."

"Visual," _Medea_'s captain commanded. The ship bore a distinct resemble to the Saint's Cradle, but smaller and actually armed with starship-type weapons rather than repurposed drones. "Hail them and inquire as to their intentions. Radio and holographic."

Admiral Mizetto drew in a sharp breath. She recognized the ship even if the computers didn't. "It's a Belkan War Cruiser, Captain."

"They just sent us a reply in Belkan ordering us away from the planet and threatening to fire if we don't."

The captain looked to the flag bridge above him, where Admiral Mizetto stood. "Your orders Admiral?"

"Keep them out of orbit. If they open fire, reply in kind." Admiral Mizetto was known for adopting a hands-off approach to the running of her flagship, only concerning herself with making sure all the pieces of the operation fit together.

* * *

"Nanoha!" Fate called in warning.

The Ace of Aces dodged aside from the binds Other-Shamal had cast, noting to her shock there had only been three; two for her arms, and one for her…neck. This was getting rapidly out of hand. There had been no escalation, no warm-up, and no chance for discussion. Things had simply gone directly to lethal combat. She had unleashed a few of the big beam attacks that were her speciality, but mostly been kept moving trying to avoid getting strangled or teleported into two pieces by the Shamal clone.

Fate and Signum had Signum's counterpart on the run, unwilling to get near them lest she be cut to shreds by the pair. Years of practicing against Signum had given Fate an instinctual understanding of how Signum fought, and vice versa. It wasn't the Wolkenritter's mental link for coordinating, but it was almost as good.

Hayate was near Yuuno and Caro. Voltaire wasn't quite called for yet, and the amount of collateral damage he'd do to the buildings around here meant the larger dragon was a last resort anyways. Hayate was seriously beginning to consider stomping a few buildings down might be necessary though, as the Shamal clone was somewhere inside the mining complex and despite their best efforts proving very hard to find. Over her head, the Bureau cruisers and the original Reinforce thundered at each other, splitting the sky with discharges that dwarfed those being tossed around down here.

The good news was that Vita and Zafira between them already won that particular combat; again, lethally, the wolf having put a forest of energy blades through the Vita clone's torso. The Wolkenritter appeared to regard the existence of their doppelgangers as a personal affront, neither asking nor offering any quarter. They were hunting around the complex for the Shamal clone now, along with Shamal herself.

The whole world seemed turned upside-down for Nanoha as she watched her friends kill without visible remorse or hesitation. But she couldn't dwell on that; she had a battle to win. And Hayate had told her specifically to try and take one of the hostiles alive.

"**Wide Area Search.**" Raising Heart said. Time to find that Shamal clone. Other-Zafira could wait.

* * *

_Medea _came about to meet the other starship head on, placing her main gun on the target. The Bureau battleship had been in an action-ready condition since the attack on the ground had begun, her wards raised and her guns charged and ready to fire. Admiral Mizetto noted the fact that the other ship had also raised its wards and charged weapons. It had to be a bluff, as the other ship was badly outmassed and outgunned. But it kept closing, even accelerating now.

"Teleporter traces heading planetside!" Then a more worrying announcement. "War Cruiser has launched self-powered projectiles, reading radioactive materials in them!" _Medea_'s secondary guns went into action immediately to intercept the inbound missiles before their nuclear warheads could strike the battleship's wards. The Bureau ship's wards could stand up to nuclear weaponry, but there was no reason to sit and suffer when something positive could be done to stop it. One missile got through to detonate against the battleship's wards, with a yield of nearly fifty megatons. The Bureau ship simply shrugged it off, its wards barely changing hue from the deep blue they were at.

The War Cruiser kept coming. _Medea_'s main gun spat a bolt of magic powerful enough to punch through a planetary crust at its antagonist, and the first real starship-to-starship combat in the history of the Time-Space Adminstrative Bureau was joined.

* * *

There were a lot of them, they wore standardized white Barrier Jackets, and they were very clearly hostile. Hayate had actually failed to react in time and seen a Device blade bounce off her Barrier Jacket. Then Yuuno was there with binds lashing out in all directions, holding five or so A-ranked mages back. Caro had already summoned Voltaire and put the dragon to work after nearly losing her head to another group, while Friedrich was busily keeping her away from them.

Nanoha spotted a group of white-jacketed mages moving towards the complex itself and sent a telepathic warning to Vita to get out of the buildings before she was trapped. "Raising Heart!"

"**Divine.**"

"I'm sorry." Nanoha murmured, unheard by her targets. They remained oblivious to their impending doom. What you don't know _can_ hurt you, particularly when the sky decides to start raining pink energy beams.

"**Buster.**"

One group out of it. Nanoha turned and sought new targets.

Yuuno was holding his own, just barely. He counted twenty-odd enemy mages, A-rankers or better all since they could fly. Between his shields and binds he was keeping them off of Hayate, but Hayate herself couldn't cast or stop moving, and thus barely influence the battle. The moment they wised up and all decided to attack him instead, he was fairly sure that would be the end of him. He saw a blur of red out of the corner of his eye as Vita joined the fight to protect Hayate and breathed a little easier.

* * *

The wards of the Belkan War Cruiser had originally been a color below the human range of perception, but they were now a green and rapidly shading towards blue as they absorbed more energy. The Bureau warship had its opponent dead to rights, main and secondary guns flashing as the War Cruiser returned fire ineffectually. In a few moments the War Cruiser's wards would fail, and then another hit would finish it. Starships depended totally on their wards to protect them from other starship weapons; just as with nuclear weapons, no known material could really stop a starship's main gun.

But the War Cruiser did not turn from its course towards the planet, even as its own main gun came off-target from _Medea_. The teleporter activity continued without pause.

* * *

The situation on the ground was badly out of control. There were over a hundred hostile flight mages now, and probably five hundred ground mages about too, too many even for this collection of Wolkenritter and S-rankers to fight straight up. The battle over their heads had been won at least, one of the cruisers managing to tag Reinforce with a shot from its main gun. Even a mage so powerful as to rival a god found that fatally inconvenient. The other news was all bad, as Voltaire was badly injured by massed fire from the ground mages and had to be sent back to recover, while Zafira was now sporting some nasty cuts from the last group of these white-jacketed mages he'd tangled with.

Fate winced as a line of fire crossed her back, and shot upwards, gaining some distance from her opponents and praying for a miracle. If they had been outside all these enemies, they could have nibbled them to death, but surrounded by them playing the hit-and-run game was failing. Then a teleport took hold as Hayate called for the cruisers to pull them out. Moments later Admiral Mizetto gave the order she'd been hoping to avoid over all others. M-class cruisers _Enif_ and _Kochab _oriented their main guns downward and began area saturation fire, determined to sterilize the mining complex down to bedrock.

* * *

There was a flash as the War Cruiser's wards failed, flushing the energy they had absorbed back into space. Fire bloomed from the War Cruiser's flank as a few shots from _Medea_'s secondary guns hit before the Bureau battleship ceased fire.

"Enemy ship has ceased manuvering and is leaking atmosphere."

The captain again looked up to Admiral Mizetto. She looked back down. "Let him drift unless he gets funny ideas again. We need answers from somewhere."

"Enemy ship is launching again!"

A new star was briefly born in the skies over Ligeia.

* * *

Aboard _Enif _Fate stared at the screen numbly, not noticing blood running down her back from her wound. She was watching the ongoing ground bombardment with Nanoha. Nanoha herself was openly weeping in frustration at failing to prevent this. Hayate noticed the missile icons in the orbital battle and watched as the explosion washed out _Medea_'s icon and that of its opponent. She had grown up within driving distance of where the first Earthly nuclear weapon had fallen, and it was with a horror that only a Japanese coud understand that she watched. Hayate reminded herself that _Medea_ could take it, but she still found herself praying as the discarded religion of her youth returned.

On the_ Kochab_, Yuuno was fussing over Zafira's wounds to take his mind off the horrific scene playing out below him. Signum simply watched it impassively. She had seen starship weapons at work before, though honestly usually from the receiving end. Somewhere down there her double was dying, and that was good enough.

Caro turned away from the screen so she didn't have to watch, and noted Vita was. "Captain Vita, there are a lot of people dying there. How can you watch it?"

"They tried to kill Hayate." Vita replied. "_Nobody _tries to kill Hayate."

Zafira did not comment, but like Caro he turned away.

* * *

_Medea_'s captain gazed balefully at the Belkan War Cruiser. "Take that ship out of my sky." Admiral Mizetto did not intervene; anyone who was that nuclear-happy wasn't someone she felt any need to save. Mercy had been offered and rejected.

A single shot from _Medea_'s main gun slammed into the War Cruiser amidships, triggering a welter of secondary explosions. The War Cruiser's power core detonated last, blowing it into pieces that began to enter Ligeia's atmosphere as a rain of meteors. _Medea_'s secondary guns engaged the largest pieces, breaking them up so they would burn up in the atmosphere without hitting the ground.

* * *

It was a bitter, dispirited gathering aboard _Medea_ five hours later.

Though Admiral Mizetto's order had been effective, and if you got Nanoha very drunk she might admit warranted, the Ace of Aces was now barely on speaking terms with her nominal commanding officer. Fate had come to accept the logic of the decision better, but her interactions with the Admiral remained somewhat stiff. Hayate, for her, part, blamed herself and not the Admiral. She had the raw power to knock out a force that size, if she had been able to pull everyone together and buy the breathing room to cast. But by the same token she could not allow others to know this; she still had to lead this crew and that meant keeping them focused on the matter at hand.

"Do we know anything about them?" Hayate asked Admiral Mizetto.

The Admiral shook her head tiredly. "We found a pair of survivors, but neither of them are fit to answer questions." Three Mage Teams, transferred in from Starburst Station, guarded the both of them in spite of the fact they were both in comas and one was not expected to survive despite constant attention from the best doctors the Bureau could find. The fact anyone had survived an area saturation bombardment by two Bureau cruisers at all was equivalent to tripping over a winning lottery ticket. Starship guns were extremely blunt instruments and this marked only the third time the Bureau had turned them against the soil of an Administrated World.

Yuuno raised a hand. "If I may?" A nod from the Admiral. "I took the liberty of comparing the performance of the War Cruiser to the data the Infinite Library has on the type. The Bureau used to own a couple of them, shortly after it was founded. This ship might have looked like one, but there were some subtle design differences and it did not perform like a true Belkan War Cruiser. It was significantly improved in every way."

Admiral Mizetto ran her hands over her face. "In your opinion, this would indicate understanding and mastery of Dimensional Sea starship design?" The Bureau was the only group that had that. No one else. There were a number of Non-Administrated Worlds that had spacecraft, and even a couple that had managed to travel beyond their home system to another via slower-than-light travel. But only the Bureau had access to the Dimensional Sea, and it was the ultimate mobility advantage. They had never encountered another culture that had true starships as the Bureau understood the term, not since the Belkan Civil War and its fratricidal destruction of the Belkan empire.

Yuuno looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm not really qualified to make that judgement Admiral, but in my layman's opinion…yes."

"Were they here for the false Wolkenritter, or were they trying to support them?" Fate asked.

Admiral Mizetto shook her head. "I have a complete team of analysts going over Device records to try and figure out that. Their answer so far is 'we don't know.' Right now all I can tell you is that they attacked Bureau mages without provocation and Headquarters is going insane over the possiblity of this being first contact with another significant mage government. They deployed nearly six hundred mages from what we can tell. That cruiser must have been packed to the rafters."

Yuuno had a bad thought. "Where in the Bureau's own space can you reliably find six hundred mages, one hundred of them flight mages?"

"Starburst Station and Cranagan, Yuuno-kun. Nowhere else would you have so many flight mages together, you only need a couple dozen for a city usually." Nanoha replied. The defensive mage barely resisted the urge to flinch at being addressed by Nanoha. It had become obvious to him, since Nanoha and Fate had adopted Vivio, that he had missed his opportunity with the Ace of Aces. That was if he'd ever had one to begin with, Yuuno thought sourly. Nanoha, for her part, didn't notice because she abruptly got Yuuno's point. "This was a major commitment. They must have put it together to fight the Wolkenritter."

"Or," Hayate said softly, "this was an invasion force and the false Wolkenritter were there to establish a beachhead."


	9. Don't Wake Me

Breather, relatively speaking, for a couple chapters. Force, if and when we get to that subject, will not be playing out as was originally described. Alternately…ever notice Isis has purple hair and yellow eyes? Gee, who else has purple hair and yellow eyes that we know? (Hint: for one of them, it's not a constant thing.)  
Writer's block was kicking my butt. I'm back now. As noted in _A Numbered Existence_ Nove's and Sein's chapters hunting for Belkan Wolkenritter studies could be considered a prequel to this.

**Don't Wake Me  
**"Dame Signum, Agito, Lieutentant Scrya." Samuel al-Faddil addressed them in rough seniority order. Rough because where Agito stood in the hierarchy was undefined. Rein and Hayate were considered to be one and the same person as far the Bureau was concerned, thus Rein had the full authority available to Hayate. But nobody had bothered to clarify Agito's status yet, so calling her more senior than Yuuno was purely based on the fact Agito had worn a uniform slightly longer.

They were aboard the only currently unassigned battleship in the Navy, Chrono Harlaown's flagship _Circe_. The ship was orbiting a world that didn't even have a Non-Adminstrated designation, as it could not support life. Chrono himself now put in an appearance, triggering a round of salutes for the Admiral.

"Never thought I'd actually get you into a uniform, Scrya." Chrono looked amused at the neatness of Yuuno's uniform. It would take a very good eye to spot the creases now; clearly Ferret-Boy had been learning fast.

"You didn't, Admiral." Yuuno replied. He didn't add anything primarily because, still a civilian at heart, he didn't appreciate the black humor often adopted by active-duty types as a method of coping with death.

Signum intervened before anyone could take offense. "Our briefing was somewhat vague. How did the Bureau discover this site?"

"We convinced an…antiquities dealer, to give us the location." Chrono noticed Yuuno grimace at the euphemism. To a real archeologist, black marketeers were only slightly better than rapists. It was just as well Chrono hadn't mentioned their excavation plan had been using a starship gun to reduce the rock over the site to something they could teleport through, or Yuuno might have thrown a fit. "You both speak the langauge and know the culture of pre-Kaiser Belka, and one of you happens to be an expert in teleportation magic." Chrono gestured to Samuel. "His people will escort you. It's tight quarters down there and weight of numbers tells more heavily close in then it does in open air."

"We going to need suits for this one, sir?" Samuel asked.

Chrono shook his head. "We checked. Breathable atmosphere, temperature isn't bad. You'll have air bottles and masks just in case."

* * *

Samuel was briefing his Team, and gestured to the three newcomers to the briefing room. "Our job is to protect the Major, her Unison, and Lieutenant Scrya. Admiral Harlaown made it clear that Admiral Mizetto needs them back at the end of this. Standard mad science procedure is in effect: Don't touch anything, float rather than walk. We don't know much about layout or hazards, so this is a plan-as-we-go like usual." A few nods, a few "Yes sir." in about equal measure.

Signum noted that they were standing on ceremony a lot less than they had in front of Hayate during her previous mission with this team and wondered why. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Samuel was technically the ranking officer now; a Commander ranked on her own rank of major by one grade. The fact that there was such a thing as "standard mad science procedure" faintly amused Signum as well. But she filed away the magical flight rather than walking trick as a good one.

No orders were given after the teleport. The black longcoats spread out, floating rather than walking or running, to secure the room.

Yuuno found a terminal and briefly debated whether it was a good idea to try and log in. He ultimately called over the Mage Team's technical specialist to assist just in case and got to work while Signum guarded the two of them.

Between himself and the techie, they managed to fake up a set of credentials that the AI running the place appeared to accept. It was actually quite similar to the intelligence of a Bureau ship; not terribly smart but doggedly determined. Its measures against hacking had been minimal. Secrecy had clearly been meant to be the main defense of the complex.

There were others though, and Yuuno worriedly noted that all the computer would tell him was that they would accept its judgement on him, not what they were. It appeared the computer didn't know itself. Secrecy again.

It did tell him where the main research subject was, and they proceeded directly through corridors of dark grey stone. The lights came on ahead of them, remained as they passed, and turned off behind the last of them. It was eerie effect, but it didn't appear to spook the Mage Team any, and Signum took it in stride like the senior Wolkenritter did, well, everything.

Maybe it was just that he didn't have a Device, and so couldn't see in the dark. Maybe he hadn't been out in the field enough recently… Yuuno told the voice of his fears to shut up. He'd fought Vita and won. He spent his days training against Wolkenritter now, and he gave as good as he got. Nothing else in the universe was remotely as threatening.

Signum examined her surroundings with care. Grey stone, but worked carefully, the floor underfoot covered by some kind of nonslip material. The air was dry and slightly warm; the complex was deep enough to be closer to the heat of the planet's mantle then it was to the chill of its lack of atmosphere. She had been vaguely surprised to discover the place still powered, but only vaguely. Magic-based systems, lacking physical parts that degraded over time, could last for millenia. The near-sterile environment and lack of water undoubtedly helped.

They arrived in a room with only one exit, and a wall covered in machinery save for a single tube, blue and opaque. "That," Yuuno breathed, "looks like a coldsleep device. I don't think anyone's ever seen a whole one."

"Suspended animation?" Samuel asked.

"Suspended anything. Absolute zero. I haven't heard of the Bureau managing to get anything near that except in a lab. Even Durandel falls short by a good bit." Yuuno replied. "Whatever we want was probably locked in there to preserve it."

Signum tapped the tank with Levantine's tip. "It could hold a person too."

"Any way to find out what's in it?" Samuel asked.

"Not without opening it. An absolute zero area would just absorb any method of checking the interior." Yuuno still seemed slightly awed by the discovery. Samuel spread his team out around the room, and had Signum unison with Agito and stand ready in front of the device, before he gave the order to open it.

Eventually, the form of a woman became visible inside the darkness of the tube. Then it slid open, but somehow the darkness remained; some form of energy dampening field that was absorbing the light in addition to everything else.

"…Signum?"

The woman stepped into the light and it was all most of the Bureau personnel could do not to immediately attack. Not that it would help. It was Reinforce, the original, though she was not apparently ready to fight; no Barrier Jacket and no "war paint", just pre-Kaiser Belkan clothing. "I can't hear you…I can't hear anyone. It's been so quiet for so long."

Signum cautiously took a step forward. "I might be able to help you with that. Though it won't be pleasant." The senior Wolkenritter held out her hand.

It was every bit as upsetting to lose one's sense of self as Signum remembered. That settled a question on its own though; this Reinforce was at the least a very close approximation of real. Most of the memories were there, thousands of years of them. But they diverged at a point Signum recognized well, their last outright failure to protect their master, five hundred years ago, on a world called Zara. They had faced the armies of Belka on campaign, and for all their efforts, the Wolkenritter had lived while their master died.

But for this Reinforce, her memories changed there. When she next awoke it was in the cold grey stone of this place, barely able to use magic due to a powerful limiter on her. She couldn't summon a Barrier Jacket, could barely even manage a holo interface. They studied her, poked and prodded and even occasionally cut her up.

But mainly, they killed her.

And every time she came back, as she always did, they'd try some other way to kill her. A neverending quest for the means to make make her stay dead, from searching for a specific pattern of damage that might do it to attempting to further corrupt the programming that made her tick to the point she could not re-manifest.

The scholars and scientists of Belka had ultimately failed, of course. In the end, the Sankt Kaiser's efforts to re-unify Belka had intervened, and they had been called on to serve in more immediately useful projects. Left her here, in the deepest of sleeps.

Signum pulled her hand back, and she was herself again. So was the Reinforce clone, but she took it much worse than Signum had and sank to her knees. With a downward wave of her other hand she passed on her opinion that things were not about to get extremely ugly. This was premature, as moments later a Type 4 Gadget Drone started to decloak behind her.

Yuuno threw up a shield that stopped a blade scything downward, but the drone kicked him into a wall with its back legs. At the same time at least three Devices struck the drone. Signum's Levantine was parried by one of the forward scythe-arms, but both the staff Intelligent Device belonging to the blond navy mage and Samuel's Steelheart made contact. Steelheart cut a ragged line in the target but failed to do critical damage. The staff, however, intoned "**Jammer!**" and the drone shuddered and collapsed amid crackling electricity.

"Think we might need to back off and rethink this if that's what the defenses are like." Yuuno observed, getting back up. Then he paused to listen to the Old Belkan the alarms were speaking. "Or…not."

"Make it quick Lieutenant." Samuel warned. In the background his team moved to physically block the door to prevent any others getting in cloaked.

"The alarm is saying 'Unauthorized mechanicals'."

"Then we've got a little time." Samuel glanced at the door just to check. "Scrya, can you mark the drone wreck and the coldsleep stuff for a remote teleport somehow? If the Bureau doesn't have a copy of either," all the known Type 4 Gadget Drones had been blown to bits along with the Saint's Cradle, "we might as well try and bring them back if we run."

"Not sure. I'll try." Yunno replied. The concept of just tearing a find like the coldsleep device out of the wall like that was distasteful, but the possiblity someone would learn whatever had allowed the creation of the Reinforce kneeling within arm's reach of him did not bear thinking about. Yuuno could be practical when it was needed.

Signum physically blocked the doorframe with her body, taking over from the Navy tech specialist, Citronen, and the other Navy lieutenant, Simo Fiat. "Yuuno, will the computer track them?" she demanded.

"Hang on a moment…yes, yes it will."

"Commander?" Signum prompted.

Samuel nodded towards the Reinforce clone, who still seemed halfway to catatonic. Signum shook her head. "She couldn't put up a Barrier Jacket tough enough to stop a determined housecat. Limitered."

Samuel nodded. "All right. Let's go hunting."

* * *

The corridor he was in was barely wide enough to lift his arms halfway, but Samuel was not yet worried, holding his blade in front of him. A Type 4 would be in even more trouble in a space this confined, barely able to move. "Should be coming up on the last target." Yuuno's voice said in his ear, the defensive mage coordinating the hunt.

That was not a mechanical. It was a girl, maybe nine or so, with purple hair that indicated Midchildan ancestory. She closed far too rapidly for someone of her apparent size, moving quick, but there was something jerky about it, something inhuman. Her movements were not natural, almost like a puppet on a string.

She had a sword of her own, one much too big for her. The confined corridor worked to his advantage, his shorter blade easier to manuver in cramped quarters. The girl clearly had some natural talent for swordplay, but little in the way of practical experience. Done taking the measure of his opponent, Samuel slammed a fist into her face.

It stung his hand, and though her head rocked back slightly, it didn't nearly as much as it should have. In fact, it felt like hitting metal…

"Combat Cyborg!" Samuel warned. _Scrya! Need a binding expert here._ Every Bureau mage could do basic binds. This did not mean Samuel thought he could hold a Combat Cyborg.

_On my way._ Yuuno's emotions in combat were kaleidoscopic. A half-dozen constantly present and another half-dozen flitting through even in the brief contact Samuel had. Underneath that was the rock-solid core of belief in his cause that made him such a powerful defensive mage.

It took another couple of minutes of back-and-forth swordplay while Samuel delibrately made no more effort to strike her with anything but his blade, letting his opponent think that first punch had been aberration. Then the slap of footsteps behind him announced Yuuno's arrival.

Samuel batted the Combat Cyborg's blade against the wall and followed up with his body, trapping the blade against the wall with his hip. The Mage Commander didn't think he could hold a Combat Cyborg even with his entire bodyweight to back it up for long, but that wasn't necessary. Yuuno was there to take the obvious opening. "Struggle Bind!"

That was that.


	10. Arisen

Hayate double-faceplams. I don't think much more can be said.

**Arisen  
**"Has she spoken at all?" Signum asked. She was looking at the Reinforce clone, now apparently sleeping. She had been talking with Chrono; the Admiral needed to know what had happened, but the obvious officer to make the report was sort of busy keeping the Reinforce clone away from the crew and the crew away from the Reinforce clone.

"She told us not to call her Reinforce. That was it." Samuel replied. "The Combat Cyborg would at least give us a name."

"Oh?" Signum was mildly interested in the Combat Cyborg, but not nearly as much as she was in the Reinforce clone."

"Isis. She claims not to remember a last name. We've already confirmed it's JS-type cyborg parts, down to the last detail. Has anyone checked to see if he's still in his cell recently?" Samuel asked.

Signum's eyes widened ever so slightly, the only sign of surprise that Samuel could ever recall seeing from the senior Wolkenritter. It was also something he would have missed if he had not been looking directly at her eyes and standing within arm's reach. "He had better be. May I speak with…" a pause while Signum attempted to come up with a name besides Reinforce and failed, "her?" A gesture to the apparently sleeping Reinforce clone worked to indicate who she meant instead.

"You talk directly to the Admiral whenever you want. I have to go through the ship's captain first usually. Don't act like you need permission from me for anything." Samuel replied, sounding amused she'd asked.

Signum actually favored him with a faint grin.

* * *

"Signum." Not asleep after all, it seemed. The Reinforce clone sat up.

"So what _do_ you want to be called?" Unlike others, when Signum put emphasis on a word it required active attention to notice.

"Reinforce is your Hayate's name for…a different person. Not me." A pause. "You can refer to me as Drei, I suppose. Since I would be the third one you know."

"Not the third I have met." Signum said, softly. "But yes, the third I have known."

"Is it really true? Your Hayate Yagami? That there are others like us running around killing people still? The fall of Belka?" Drei asked.

Signum didn't consider that worth responding to. They had shared memories by touch; Drei _knew _the truth of these things. After a couple of moments Drei acceded to the awkwardness of the question. "They are, I know, but…this is much to absorb at once."

"The Bureau will ask if you will fight for them. They need you." Signum had noticed that even though she could touch Drei and share the link that way, she could not do it any other way. The senior Wolkenritter had a theory, but that could only be proved by touching one of the other duplicates, and Signum had no intention of doing that unless she was strangling them.

Drei shook her head quickly. "I can not. The limiter is…if I could not break it during several hundred years, I doubt they will be able to with anything less than ten. And I think I have had enough of orders. I have a unique situation now, after all. Masterless woman for the first time." That was an interesting point. A Wolkenritter or Reinforce were duty-bound to defend their master at all costs, and it was a part of themselves they could no more alter then a human could tear out their own heart and keep living. But Drei had no master, and with the normal method of her succession from one to the next broken by her current state, never would again.

"They…even _I_ cannot fully trust you, Drei. Prudence demands that I not. Duty dictates that I not. You can cause massive destruction, a fact with which I was already well-acquainted and which the Bureau has learned to its cost." Signum was feeling helpless again. "They cannot ignore you, Limiter or not. You have spent hundreds of years on it by your own admission and the odds you will break it, or that it will break on its own, only get better."

"True." Drei said softly. "I am not unsympathetic to their and your cause, Signum. I simply do not know what I can do to help. You think this Bureau will not have me…help…the way the Belkans did."

"Most likely. The Bureau has its skeletons in the closet, but none quite so horrific as that. And they seem to geniunely enjoy cleaning the closet out on a regular basis anyways." Signum replied. "But you should be careful. Not everyone will be as reasonable as Admiral Harlaown and his subordinates. The guards at your door are as much to protect you as to protect people from you."

"Do you trust those guards?" Drei asked.

"Al-Faddil?" Signum paused a moment. "He will do his duty, no matter how distasteful. Just like we have. But I doubt he finds this particular task to be a problem for his conscience. You are in good hands, Drei, for now. If you can stay under the Navy's jurisdiction somehow, I strongly recommend you do so. They seem to be the most," Signum paused a moment, wondering how to put this, "sane of the services."

* * *

Back aboard Headquarters now, Hayate and Chrono were talking for a moment, Hayate having come to collect Signum.

Nanoha entered the room as well, having clearly been searching for the two, and visibly braced herself. "Signum asked me to check something for her." Signum had been showing a political astuteness she rarely bothered with. Fate outranked Nanoha in literal terms, but when the Ace of Aces spoke people listened much more closely. Thus she asked Nanoha. "She wanted to know if Jail had been having outside communications lately, even with Bureau personnel."

Hayate was nonplussed. "So?"

"It's a bit worse than that…" Nanoha said. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It's a Ground Forces facility, the Diosid Orbital Penal Complex. They covered up the fact Jail and Quattro escaped."

Hayate and Chrono both knocked over their chairs as they stood rapidly. "They _WHAT?_" the two chorused.

"There are times when I strongly think the Bureau needs to adopt teleporting someone into the Dimensional Sea unprotected as a legal punishment." Chrono practically hissed it. It was an uncomfortable realization for Hayate that this was the first time she'd seen Chrono geniunely angry. Oh, sure, she'd seen Chrono _act_ angry about serious mistakes or problems, blow up at some hapless junior or occasionally very senior officer and make them wet their pants, but it was a show anger, done for effect and not because he actually felt it. This time Chrono was definitely not acting, because there was no one here he'd try to impress with such behavior.

Nanoha nodded, mainly as means of trying to calm Chrono down. Like Hayate, she'd never seen him truly angry before. "I can't prove anything but I think the orders came from Vult."

Hayate buried her face in her hands. "The most dangerous dimensional criminal in the last ten years escapes and Vult is worried about his service's _reputation_." She looked up. "Where did Ground Forces _get_ these people? How did nobody stop them when they were majors or lieutenants or something? Who was sleeping through their evaluation boards?"

"Not the most important problem we have at the moment." Chrono said. "Where's that Combat Cyborg you brought back?"

"On Mid, getting a full medical workup from Shamal and the people who look after the other Combat Cyborgs so we can try and figure out not only style but origin of her cybernetics." Hayate replied.

"We need to talk to her."

* * *

"She is sedated." Shamal said. Chrono opened his mouth to object, but Shamal gave him a hard-edged stare, surprising the other Wolkenritter. "I outrank everyone in the universe so long as we are within the walls of a hospital, Admiral, do not start."

Chrono sighed. "Have you learned anything of value?"

Shamal stopped for a moment. "Yes, and no. Tracing on the parts is still underway. But we did learn something about her construction. The other Combat Cyborgs…a human body cannot take that kind of enhanced performance normally, understand?" Evolution does not overengineer and it is meant for specific tolerances and stresses, those it can normally reach." Shamal got a nod from Hayate and Chrono and continued. "A mage can surpass them for relatively brief periods because they can strengthen themselves in the short term. Combat Cyborgs undergo complete skeletonal replacement and still have to be genetically engineered from birth to achieve the same end, but for them it is always on." Shamal looked like she might be ill as she related what had happened to Isis. "But this one…Isis was just a normal human who underwent the mechanical but not the genetic enhancements necessary to become a Combat Cyborg. Her body is doing things it's not supposed to, too much is being asked of it. Her musculature, circulatory system, lungs are all being overstressed badly. She will burn out."

"How long?" Hayate asked softly.

"Three months at best. Possibly as little as half that." Shamal replied. "We might be able to do something about it, the Bureau does have the technology for genetic therapy, but even if that works her lifespan will be drastically shortened by the damage already done. She would live to see forty, but not much longer. We can't duplicate Jail's biological immortality trick."

Hayate hammered a fist against the wall. "Dammit, Jail…" she breathed. "You treated the last ones like daughters. Why do this?"

Signum shifted uncomfortably. "If I may Mistress." She didn't actually wait for confirmation. "He is newly out of prison. He has only one Combat Cyborg currently working for him, and she is only marginal as a direct combatant. He is desperate for a defense, and we know he only treated the last ones like daughters _to a point_. They were ultimately still tools, merely tools he was nice to."

* * *

"Contacts. Starships dropping out of the Dimensional Sea." This was the boonies. Actually, it was beyond the boonies. Non-Adminstrated World #257 was the furthest world that received a regular starship visit from the Bureau. It had produced a few Bureau mages, but the practice of magic was pretty much unknown there, nor was their technology much beyond the Industrial Age. They didn't dabble in things that punched holes in reality, so the Bureau didn't see much need for interference or supervision. If they did manage to split the atom soon and happened to blow themselves up shortly after…well. They had a right to self-determination, even if they self-determined into the grave.

"War Cruisers." _Uhlan_'s captain breathed. He counted twelve of them. "Helm, best-time course to a posistion we can jump from. Weapons, wards up and charge guns." A futile gesture, perhaps, to fire on them, but might as well.

"Captain, we're being hailed. They're ordering us to stop engines and prepare to be boarded." The comms woman sounded incredulous.

"Tell them we politely refuse and inquire as to their intentions," the captain replied.

"They…they say they're here to pacify this world. For Belka." Nobody bothered to comment on how Belka was dead and gone or the like. That was something for later; at the needed to escape.

A few shots stopped dead at _Uhlan_'s wards, but the range was long and their power low. Inbound missiles struggled to catch the starship but could not keep pace. Her secondary guns picked off a few off them anyways just to be safe.

"Jump."


	11. Demons and Monsters

Signum has expressed her opinion of her duplicate before. Let's get it all out in the open.  
For the record, I tend to take a view that the Wolkenritter have been…well, monsters (yes I've already titled a story that) in the past, this is not intended to make them dark or tragic figures. Quite the opposite; redemption and triumph are far more powerful themes in my opinion.

**Demons and Monsters  
**Scrambling out to meet another attack was going much better this time, partially because it hadn't caught anyone asleep this time. This was the fifth known attack, and the fourth they'd responded to now. It was getting almost depressingly routine. One every week, on a Thursday, at three in the afternoon Cranagan time.

Yuuno claimed you could set a watch by it. So Vita had gone out and gotten a watch, and set it by the attacks. It worked. Hayate and Nanoha both thought they could have done without knowing that.

Today, Adminstrated World #12, Fedikia. The capital building, in fact. And a lobby covered in gore and bodies.

"She is here." Signum almost growled it, and Fate wondered if she should be taking a step away from the knight for safety. The last few weeks, responding to what had been officially dubbed "Rogue Wolkenritter" attacks, had seen her grow distressingly familiar with blood and gore. Even so, this room was something that made her feel like she might throw up. It was to Fate's great credit that she cared, but empathy was a double-edged sword.

For Signum it was entirely different. She _recognized_ this. She had done it once, serving a different and rather less stable mistress. This was a delibrate taunt, an attempt to prove the lack of difference between herself and her twin.

As such an attempt, it failed completely. The simple fact such a scene had been staged for Signum's benefit proved the point to her. This was an artifact from another lifetime, literally and metaphorically, a piece of a past she rejected. She was a Belkan Knight in deed as well as in name now, and this was against everything she believed in and now embodied. She was going to put an end to this.

_Come on._ Signum directed at Fate. _This was meant to unsettle us. She is close by to see if it worked. _The computer again, and the cold void that lurked beneath it. Signum might, perhaps, be a killing machine. Certainly she herself would own to that description at times like this. But unlike her doppelganger she was neither simple or undirected. Most importantly, both to her and others, she was not _just_ a killing machine.

And if Signum were to want a spot to watch here, it would be… "**Schlangeform!**" Levatine snapped out and trimmed the nearby hedges a lot lower than any sane gardener would like.

Her twin was already in motion, launching straight up to avoid getting trimmed down along with the plants. The Snake Form was not something that could be blocked, it would merely bend around the blocking object to hit whatever was being protected assuming it did not cut through whatever was used to block it in the first place.

_Testarossa. Give me some room for this at first._ Signum sent.

_All right._ Fate sounded dubious.

"You like showing off." Signum said to her twin, with a hint of scorn; the distaste of a professional for an amateur.

"It was familiar, though?"

"A little. You staged it well but I suppose the proper clothing and hair colors was a bit much to ask." Signum gestured with the tip of her sword. "And I came out cleaner. Staging the cuts perfectly was too big a temptation for you, you had to get closer. Arterial spray." It was true. Her twin was practically bathing in red. Signum did not shy from getting a little blood on her, though her current job description never called for it. Rather, blood was a nuisance. It got on fingers, under feet, and in eyes, made grip and footing and vision less sure. Getting lots of blood on yourself was an unnecessary complication.

"But it was appreciated."

Signum raised an eyebrow, and casually blocked a slash at her head. "Why should it be?"

"A room, a crowd. Your fingers itch for your sword, because you know it would be so easy to kill them all, and you want to." A smile. "You know you feel it."

It was becoming rapidly clear to Signum that this _wasn't_ a simple copy of her. That wasn't a thought she'd ever actually held, even in the service of the most depraved of masters and mistresses. She was incapable of this kind of sociopathic behavior, literally unable to go insane because that would have interfered with her ability to protect her master or mistress. If it was a copy, something had gone terribly wrong with it. "No. They do not."

But even if it was a damaged copy, it still knew her mannerisms. It still knew she was telling the truth. "You're…" Other-Signum extended an accusing finger. "You're one of them. The sheep. I don't believe this."

"The sheep," Signum said mildly, "often have horns." Fate appeared behind Other-Signum. Having learned that this group of Wolkenritter did not die permanently had opened up a lot of new options for Fate. All the pointless deaths ensured she took them. One such option happened to be going for nominally lethal Zamber attacks.

"Sheep?" Fate demanded, pulling Bardiche back.

"Generally viewed as cute, harmless, and fluffy. In fact they are stubborn and surprisingly violent animals." Signum offered the faintest of grins. "Describes you well, Testarossa." Fate was unsure if she should be offended, and if she should be offended, which part should offend her.

_Signum, Nanoha needs help._ Hayate.

_Understood._ She gestured for Fate to follow her and headed for Nanoha.

But by the time they got there, Nanoha had solved her own problem taking down a Shamal clone quickly and painlessly, unconcious and alive…only to see it evaporate into thin air two minutes later. And that was the last of this batch.

"_Shedir_ has a second group on the edge of town." Hayate said.

"A second group?" Nanoha didn't immeditately grasp the implication.

"They're coming back _here_. That means their master is here, their Book is here. _We can end this._" Signum replied, ending with a fierce glee that had Fate edging away from her again.

It was a heady vision, but it died a quick death as Signum counted the enemies that rose to meet them. That death was not clean or painless however.

"Ten. Two groups of five." Caro said softly.

"I'm not seeing double here am I?" Yuuno said softly.

"Oh _no_." Fate whispered.

Signum gripped Levantine tighter. This was going to be a long day.

After all, she had to kill two of herself now.

* * *

Admiral Mizetto was not a woman given to profanity, but if there was a time to start it seemed like now. "Bring us down to engage," she told the captain of K-class battleship _Adriane_. Two Reinforces was enough that a starship could not simply sit and shrug it all off; they would have to take turns to let their wards re-radiate what they had absorbed.

"Signal to Headquarters. Situation critical."

"Ships dropping out of the Dimensional Sea!" Admiral Mizetto closed her eyes in response to the sensor officer's warning. Not again.

"_Adriane_, this is _Uhlan_. We have _Alioth _and_ Diphda_ with us. We picked up your signal and diverted. May we crash the party?" The Bureau had started sending out its patrols in groups after NAW #257.

Three cruisers with patrol loadouts. Thirty-six Navy combat mages each, over a hundred flight mages total. This problem might be manageable after all.

In the end, swarming wasn't totally necessary. The Bureau had long noted that the duplicate Wolkenritter were not as good as the real ones. Against most people, that didn't matter; against mages such as Nanoha and Fate, it did. Fate managed to take down a Signum copy entirely on her own, and Signum dealt with the other. Nanoha couldn't manage that sort of thing, primarily because paired off against two of them it didn't work well, but with Vita's help managed to deal with a Shamal while the Navy mobbed the both of the Vitas to death. Zafira took on and defeated both his counterparts, the second with some help from the Navy.

"This is out of hand." Nanoha said. "Two groups now? We have enough trouble with one." Things must be bad if she was talking to Admiral Mizetto again, Fate thought.

"I think we could have handled them." Hayate replied. "We almost did. It would have been slower, messier, but we could have done it."

"We do have new information. We know how they got there because they happened to teleport in directly underneath the _Shedir_." Admiral Mizetto sighed. "The teleport point is outside Bureau-surveyed space. It would take three months to reach it by starship. Given the schedule the attacks seem to run on, and their escalating strength, that's too long to pull you off the line. We could assemble all the Combat Cyborgs the Bureau has, throw them at the teleport site, and pray."

"Prayer is not a plan." Fate said. It was an amorphism from her mother, the woman that if pressed she would identify as her _real_ mother, Lindy Harlaown.

Admiral Mizetto nodded. "Unfortunately true. Plans _are_ being made, but at the moment there is nothing to be done."

* * *

Meanwhile, halfway across Headquarters, two others were having a very different conversation.

"She seems to like you Commander." Chrono said, amused.

"Sir, I feel like I'm being sexually harassed." Drei liked to spend her time tucked into Samuel's side as if she belonged there. From Samuel's expression it was obvious he had a strong difference of opinion on that. "Any chance this could go to someone else?"

Chrono's eyes sparkled with amusement. "You want off the station."

"I am a Mage Team leader, sir. We're strike troops. Protective detail is an Air Force mission, we're not trained for it…and it smells like garrison duty. You know how that goes down with strike people, sir." It was an old problem. Garrison duty is destructive to the morale and discipline of troops not trained for it or effectively isolated. In the old days, the very old days sometime before even the twilight of the Belkan Empire, only commanders had worried. But eventually the knowledge spread down through the ranks and now everyone worried, and that worry was more of a problem then the original issue.

"I do have a mission, Commander. But it involves working with some unusual people under some unusual circumstances." Chrono tapped some keys. "Did you know anyone who was personally involved in the JS Incident?"

"You know the answer to that sir." Samuel was born into the Fleet, both his parents Navy mages still on active duty, and his sister had graduated to join a Mage Team a couple of weeks before the Incident. "The Navy didn't play a part, except in the endgame."

"I know, Commander, but I'm required to ask. It seems Jail's last few Combat Cyborgs who remained unreconstructed want him thrown back in prison. Obviously we can't let them go about it unsupervised." Chrono tapped his desk. "Do you think your Team can work with them?"

Samuel considered a moment. "Probably, sir. I can control my people though. There's still if they can control themselves."


	12. Gizmos

This chapter belongs to Uno and Tre. Uno is basically Jail if no one had ever removed his head, put it on backwards, and then kicked it until it got back into place. Tre is…normal. Ish.  
And Chrono. Why? Chrono is balls-out awesome. You'll see.

**Gizmos  
**Any military or paramilitary organization inevitably acquires their own dialect of the langauge they speak, a layer of slang, nicknames, codewords, and jargon. When Combat Cyborgs reentered the equation as a possible opponent after Jail's escape, they were given a variety of nicknames. In the Navy, the one that had won out to widespread acceptance was "gizmo", probably because it continued the theme from "gadget".

Team 70 had been split on the assignment of two gizmos to their command. Simo Fiat, Samuel's new 2IC after Cora Zeal left to command her own team, seemed interested…though probably over their looks rather than anything else. Simo was undoubtedly a skilled and competent mage, but liked to stretch the definition where he could. Bei, the senior enlisted member, had a better-founded interest both as a counter to the other Combat Cyborgs this assignment must eventually bring them against and because he was professionally curious about them. Aziza Citronen, the other lieutenant besides Simo, was staunchly opposed because they were formerly Scaligetti's own and therefore not entirely trustworthy. The rest of the Team adopted a wait-and-see approach, though they weren't entirely sure they liked taking in someone who couldn't fly.

"Tre. Uno."

"Commander?" Uno asked. She was guessing. Mage Team black longcoats bore no rank insignia, and only the shoulder devices changed from one person to the next. They were chosen randomly, a deliberate red herring for the Bureau's enemies if they tried to apply a general lesson, but enabled rapid visual identification within the team.

"Yes. Al-Faddil, or just Faddil if you're in a hurry."

Not tall, not short. Black hair and skin tone darker than Mid or Belkan norm. His uniform was, of course, spotless, because Uno realized it was actually his Barrier Jacket. The Bureau didn't entirely trust her or Tre. She accepted that as perfectly rational behavior.

"Where," Tre asked, "is Sette?" Uno glanced sideways at Tre, clearly disapproving of the question. They were out, weren't they?

Samuel frowned. "She disqualified herself, claiming emotional problems that might cause her to have a berserk episode dealing with Scaligetti or your still unreconstructed sister. If or when Scaligetti is returned to Bureau custody, Sette might decide to join you."

"I see." Tre replied, though she didn't. "We were told you had something to show us."

* * *

"This girl was captured trying to steal a piece of rare Belkan technology from under the Bureau's nose, a coldsleep device. Several Type Four drones attended her." Samuel explained.

"So?" Uno, of course. "Granted the Doctor has long had a fascination with suspended animation technologies."

"She's a Combat Cyborg. Like you, almost."

Almost? Tre watched Isis move and saw it. "She's baseline." There was a note of horror in her voice.

"A normal human cybernetically enhanced. Burns out quick. He's desperate. He thinks he needs a defense rapidly for some reason." Uno's delivery was quick, simple, matter-of-fact, and utterly calm. Samuel couldn't even call it cold; just calm, normal.

The problem was he really couldn't see anything normal about kidnapping a nine-year-old girl, brainwashing her, and filling her full of cybernetic parts. Still, that wasn't strictly germane. "Why this age? She's not big enough, not enough reach, to fight well at close quarters. But she had a sword."

"Speed. His first generation will be younger. Easier to brainwash, fewer and smaller components required. If the Type Fours were left over from before he was captured, there will be an intermediate generation of older girls he's kidnapped. If he was able to build the Type Fours new then with those resources he can proceed directly to tank-grown fully enhanced bodies." Again, flat, calm, normal. An element of curiosity entered her voice. "Though I wonder why he took the kidnapping risk. It provides data you can use against him. He is desperate for a human-based defense _now_."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. Intelligence wasn't his speciality, but Uno's exposition was clear, calm, logical, and raised an excellent point. It had doubtless occurred to the collective brainpower behind Intelligence as well, and it was good they had something to sink their teeth into. The component traces on Isis had turned up negative. Jail had been able to figure out how to do it untraceably the first time he built a set of Combat Cyborgs and was simply using techniques previously perfected.

And of course the Rogue Wolkenritter brought everything with them from outside Bureau space, and left nothing behind, so Intelligence could do little on that subject. Jail was something they could fight, and they were as grateful for that as anyone would be.

That just left one question. "What will he do with the leftovers?" Samuel asked.

"If they serve well, try to transfer their consciousness into a new, purpose-made body. If not…" Uno shivered. Samuel noted it with a somewhat cynical thought perhaps Uno was actually human too. "Discard. Send them on suicide runs for maximum damage and disruption. Move base in case they survive and return so they cannot follow."

* * *

It was a training cycle, and of course the two Combat Cyborgs had to particpate somehow. That caused a small problem.

"No real training for combat." Uno explained to Samuel. "I am a cyborg. The combat part was left out."

"You can learn." Samuel said. He glanced over her shoulder at another member of his team. "Do you have any objections to working with Bei on that?"

"No objections, one question. Why him?" Uno replied.

Samuel nodded. "Senior Mage Specialist Bei has been in the service much longer than I, or anyone else on this Team, and in a wider variety of postings. If you need to learn, he has both a greater depth and breadth of experience then the other options."

Unarmed combat practice, because the Bureau didn't trust them with weapons yet. "I could kill you." Tre said. It was true; a Combat Cyborg was easily capable of snapping a mage's neck, despite the extra protection of a Barrier Jacket.

"Then you'll just have to be careful, won't you?" Samuel replied.

What followed proved illuminating. Tre was faster, stronger, but could not convert these into a decisive advantage. The Doctor had not neglected unarmed combat training, but neither could Tre be considered truly skilled in comparison; the Bureau emphasized both skill with a Device and unarmed combat equally, naturally pointing out that in many ways you could extemporize from one to the other in close combat. The Doctor had pushed skill with a cyborg's Inherent Equipment over everything else.

Eventually, Samuel knocked Tre over, but he could not pin the Combat Cyborg and he knew it, so he offered a hand to help her up instead. "You're not bad. Not great, but you've got the basics down."

Tre accepted the offer, surprised. She also noted he didn't show the effort it took to pull her up. "I would do better with my I.S. or Equipment."

"We can't have everything we want in life." Samuel observed, with an amused grin. "Besides, you hold out pretty well without them. Again?" They both sported some new bruises and a mutual respect for each other's skill by the time the two-hour period

Looking surprisingly undisheveled for having spent nearly two hours of getting knocked around effortlessly by Bei, Uno spoke quietly to Samuel. "People look at me, at my mannerisms and behaviors, and they think I am inhuman, that I am just the Doctor in a different body. I am not. If I want to demonstrate this then I must start here with Isis, so that it is clear and unequivocal." As with everything Uno said, it was calm, clear, the spoken langauge eerily perfect, the exposition logical. "I wish to speak with her."

Samuel nodded slowly. "All right."

* * *

Isis looked up. "I know you, don't I?" She squinted at Uno.

"Sort of. You know my father, the Doctor, though in truth I am closer to a clone then a daughter." Uno replied. "I am a cyborg, like you."

Isis was skeptical. "The doctors have told me that as I am I could never live to your age."

Uno nodded. "This is true. When I was made, the Doctor had plenty of time. He hadn't upset anyone yet. So he could make me from the ground up, and take great care that everything worked together. When he made you, he was frightened. He needed someone to guard him very soon. Thus he didn't have time for ground-up creation. Instead you are…modified, not created. Not everything works together properly. Creating a Combat Cyborg is really an art, not a true science. I hope," and Uno did sound like she genuinely hoped, "that he meant to fix his mistakes. I don't _know_ that though, and I am his clone. I do know that the Bureau will fix what went wrong. They do not mistreat children."

Isis visibly bristled. "And the Doctor does?"

Uno hid the moment's satisfaction; she had gotten Isis to admit she knew Jail Scaligetti. The Bureau couldn't even pry that out of her. Then she thought back and smiled sadly. "Let me tell you a story about a little girl named Vivio, who should have been my sister…"

"She's good with kids." Samuel observed softly from behind a plate of glass. The glass was one-way so it hid the occupants of the observation room, but in a world of mages it did not do much else. Tre, Bei, and Samuel himself could have all dove through a plate-glass window like it wasn't there, come out the other side totally uninjured, and attacked either person in the room in the course of approximately five seconds. This was why Uno was allowed to meet with Isis alone.

"She had to be. Half of us were barely more than kids ourselves." Tre replied. She winced. "Vivio. I remember that too well."

"So talk." Bei suggested mildly. As the senior enlisted on the Team and closing in on thirty years service experience, a suggestion from Bei carried as much force as a direct order from Samuel. Possibly more; Bei could make a suggestion to Samuel and have it listened to, as the two went back a long way. Bei had once been Mage Specialist Samuel al-Faddil's section leader 14 years ago.

"Uno tells it better." Tre replied, evasive. Samuel shared a glance with Bei, but no commentary.

Uno exited the room later. She approached Samuel directly. "I need to speak with someone of flag rank. And who isn't General Vult. Preferably Admiral Harlaown if it can be arranged."

Chrono was about to have another very bad day, though this was one he could do something positive about.

* * *

"He got to _Vult_?" Chrono said.

"Graz." Uno pointed out reasonably.

"You make more sense then I would like. What about the rest of these names?"

"A couple of company CEOs whose companies make equipment for the Bureau, a lot of mid-level people civilian and military." Uno explained. "I have appended other information that can be independently verified, dates, times, transfer protocols, cash payments, things that can be used to get a treason conviction." The senior-most Combat Cyborg offered a small bow. "I apologize for holding out on you, but I needed to assure myself that my information would be acted on. I have as vested an interest in Jail Scaligetti'srecapture as the Bureau does and I would not see the trump card in my and your arsenal go to waste."

Chrono reevaluated the person standing in front of him radically. "I see."

Uno turned on one heel and went to find her sister, Bei following her silently as a shadow.

* * *

"May we speak in private?" Tre asked.

Samuel looked around. "We're private. Speak."

"You do not trust me." Tre opined.

Samuel shrugged. "No, not really. Nor will I, unless or until you participate in a successful takedown of Jail. If it's any consolation, I find you an intelligent and probably likeable person otherwise. And a good sparring partner. Much better than when I spar against Vita." Vita had taken advantage of his fixed posting to get out to Headquarters for a few matches at least once a week.

Tre's eyes widened a moment at that offhand reference to having a personal relationship with a Wolkenritter, since sparring with one regularly was about as personal as the Cloud Knights got. "I…is there some place we could do this seated?"

"Sit on the floor." Samuel said.

Tre looked at him in askance. "In a public corridor?"

Samuel gave her a grin that was slightly superior, slightly charming. The end result cancelled out. "I've discovered making people sit in a public corridor on the floor is good method for making them extremely uncomfortable, and thus unable to baffle me with bullshit effectively. I don't trust you, remember?"

Tre sat despite having it explained. She _wanted_ to be trusted. "The Doctor, he was my father, our father. Not all of us, not even most, share his DNA, but he raised us. That's fatherhood by any reasonable definition. He was a loving father. Not a good one, I know that now, but I did not then."

"When he resurrected Zest, created Lutecia, Zest wanted nothing to do with him and Lutecia wanted more freedom then we had. He let both things happen. Lutecia was his child too, at least as much as we were; he brought her into the world, raised her. It was well within the Doctor's power to compel her to obey him, as Quattro stupidly proved, but he never did. He could be magnanimous too and we were hardened in our opinion. Then Vivio happened." Tre was surprised when Samuel chose to also sit down across from her to listen better.

"Vivio was, well, she was his daughter too. And he chained Vivio up and ran tests on her and told us that no, Vivio wasn't our sister at all. That did not make much sense to us at first. And honestly, it still does not, had he been kinder to Vivio..."

"Admiral Harlaown would have blown her to her component atoms along with the rest of the Saint's Cradle, Jail's plan would still have failed, and you'd probably still be having some form of this conversation eventually." Samuel pointed out.

Tre frowned at him. She hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. "True. But that was not what happened, and I worried about the dichotomy between us and Vivio, when there was no real reason we could detect. We all grumbled a little. We didn't understand why. The Doctor is a very technical man, and he speaks technical well…" Tre trailed off, with perhaps a hint of embarrassment as a couple of Navy folks in the blue uniform passed by.

"Technical is a good way to do that baffling thing I mentioned earlier. And you were sheltered, you didn't know better." Samuel was sympatheticbut still not trusting, and Tre accepted that he would not except under the conditions he'd given. Still she wanted to finish this conversation.

"I did know better. I wouldn't have worried in the first place otherwise. His treatment of Vivio got more harsh as she got older." Tre shook her head. "I kept silent. He was my father. I had as good as sworn an oath of service to the man. I had killed for him. You have been ordered to do things you find morally objectionable, yes?"

A couple of faces stilled in death, a street exploding into flames, a child crying for their mother. Different incidents from a 14-year career of service to the Time-Space Administrative Bureau. Nothing truly raw, but things he had not _wanted_ to do nor truly understood the sense behind. "A few."

"But your loyalty to the Bureau was never negotiable over them. Mine was not negotiable over such things either. But I lost respect for the man, slowly, and I stayed because my sisters needed me, not for him. I think Uno knew. I think that was why she insisted I take Sette under my wing." Tre shrugged. "Uno is like the Doctor. She does not believe in force, but in subtlety. What Quattro did to Sette before she first awoke upset even Jail. Having me take Sette on as an assistant solved several problems for Uno. "

Samuel appeared mildly surprised. "Jail has limits?"

"The Doctor believes in the power and ability of the mind. To limit it is the greatest sin he can concieve of." Tre looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Do you think I have a personality, a will of my own, because it was the best method for him? If he were truly dedicated to power above all things, I and all my sisters would be like Sette."

"A fair point." Samuel agreed. He stood offered a hand to help her up again. It wasn't as easy as it looked; Tre, because of her cyborg parts, easily weighed twice what a normal female of her height and build ought to.

Uno watched and wondered what had just passed between them.

* * *

"We have a lead, and a problem." Chrono held out a hand towards Samuel. "Your Device?"

Samuel handed it over. He knew what this meant. Chrono was about to authorize him to use the Deathblow function. Samuel hated that; the ultimate personal weapon, a Deathblow-enabled Device could circumvent any defense and enable to a mage to punch far above their rank. The problem was that it did this by creating a small dimensional cataclysm to rip the target apart.

No mage likes dimensional cataclysms. And the Deathblow was never perfected; the Bureau grew out of its original predilection for lethal combat before it could be. The function remained somewhat unpredictable, and hence dangerous. In a lot of ways, mass weapons were safer: few of them erased planets from existence when they malfunctioned catastrophically.

"Eins-Alpha-Zwei-Omega." Chrono pronounced the words carefully.

"**Authorization recognized. Unlimited releases granted. Deathblow armed.**" Steelheart liked this. The Device tended towards slightly bloodthirsty, a relic of its age; at nearly 70, the Device remembered the old days and old wars to consolidate after Belka.

Unlimited releases! "Admiral-"

"We're going to need it, as the problem is Rogue Wolkenritter. I have one other trick up my sleeve, but if fails your orders are to hit every remaining enemy on the field with a Deathblow as soon as possible."

Tre slipped the old Inherent Equipment into place. There was a sense of…well-being, of belonging, to the old gear. She had worn it as long as she could remember, until the Bureau had taken it from her. Now they returned it, the missing piece of her in a real sense. She was going to need it if the Admiral hadn't been pulling their legs, and Chrono didn't seem the type to joke.

Uno, meanwhile, was looking forward to a chance to try something Jail had forbidden her from doing.

* * *

An Other-Signum was the first thing that confronted Tre. "Step aside, Machine. My business is with your master."

"Wrong on both counts." Tre replied.

"You're a fool then. I will simply kill you, as this is hardly a fair fight." Other-Signum said scornfully.

_Uno? _Tre sent. Uno shrugged, tapped two keys on the holographic console, and the false Levantine tried to curl in several directions at once as though Schlangeform had been activated, fired the cartridge in it, and jammed trying to eject the cartridge. A Device's only defense is the inability to connect externally to it. Uno's I.S. bypassed such things perfectly. Jail had never used it that way since he judged the secret that she could hack into anything was more valuable than the tactical advantage.

"More fair?" Uno asked mildly. Tre nodded grimly.

The Signum clone could only sputter in rage.

"I.S. Ride Impulse." Tre said. The two women clashed while Uno got out of the way, looking for another Other-Wolkenritter's day to ruin by hacking their Device.

It was still hard-fought despite Tre's speed advantage. The false Signum lacked the raw power to throw at Tre that Fate had used to win their last battle, but she was still strong and quick with a blade, and Tre acquired a cut on the thigh learning the value of caution in fighting a Wolkenritter-level opponent. But unlike anyone else who Other-Signum could have reasonably hoped to wear down via fatigue, Tre did not tire, her cybernetics keeping her just as quick and strong five minutes into one of the most intense single combats in the Bureau's history.

Neither woman had any intention of backing down. Warm steel and condensed magic clashed in a trial of systems, the purely magical against the purely technological. In the end, the cold hand of science triumphed as one of Tre's wristblades severed her opponent's head, costing her a nasty cut on the forearm, but Other-Signum had not been able to shift Levantine with enough force to damage Tre's cyborg parts _and_ keep blocking the other arm.

Other-Vita had found herself facing Samuel. That actually worked out to a flat draw, until Uno came along and made the fake Graf Eisen flip out and Rakentenform against its owner's wishes, leaving her open without a weapon, a situation Samuel promptly exploited. That left them free to chase down the Shamal while the rest of the Team worked at keeping her and the Zafira back. Another calculated Device malfunction rendered Other-Shamal defenseless and prey to the not-quite-combat cyborg, a fight marked by the ineptitude of both sides. Team 70 mobbed Other-Zafira to death, then came back for the Shamal.

That left a Reinforce, who had been able to sense the Deathblow device on the field and expected to be on the receiving end of it immediately. But that wasn't the real threat to her.

* * *

The real threat was Chrono Harlaown, Durandel in hand. "**Eternal Coffin.**"

It didn't actually hold Reinforce for more than a couple seconds, but by that point Chrono was up in her face, and her head snapped left from a blow from Durandel. She managed to get just enough distance to be safe a moment, narrowing her eyes. "You will die for that, mortal."

"Calling yourself a god now?" Chrono hit her in the face again with Durandel, in spite of a barrier that should have stopped someone twice his mage rank. A second Eternal Coffin went off in Reinforce's face, and frozen she fell almost to the ground before she thawed. In a rage she tried to annihilate Chrono with repeated heavy castings, but he was never there by the time the attack arrived.

All the epithets that had been used for the TSAB'syoungest admiral before he was re-earning. Chrono Harlaown the Untouchable, Chrono Harlaown the Relentless, Chrono Harlaown the Destroyer of Aces. "For a god, you really do not impress me." Again and again Durandel connected with Reinforce's body, slapping her head left and right, piercing her barrier jacket on her chest and sides and stomach, the tip taking a chunk out of one of her ears. Reinforce clapped a hand to that ear which came away bloody, and with an inarticulate scream of rage she began casting a Diabolic Emission at the ground directly beneath her feet. The blast would wipe out everything within a kilometer. It'd count as a victory for the Other-Wolkenritter, since they reincarnated, but the humans and Combat Cyborgs would be and stay quite dead.

This time the Eternal Coffin went off and there was nowhere to fall to, so Reinforce remained easily within Chrono's reach. The forward thrust of Durandel continued and hit her in the face, and still frozen, she shattered. Reinforce died that easily; taking no one with her, posing no threat to anyone in the end, entirely at the hands of one normal human mage.

"So we have to call him 'Godslayer' now?" Uno asked.

"I heard that." Chrono's voice said in her ear. "I don't need an epithet that…pretentious."

Unfortunately for Chrono, he was too late. That nickname would haunt him for the rest of his life.


	13. Thicker Than Water

If you've not yet read _Monsters_ you probably should. You'll note an evolution of story ideas since then, but this chapter is basically the same story as _Monsters_, but without the Wolkenritter focus. (It might also be good to check out the ending of the last chapter again. I apologize for the long delay, here's an extra-long chapter.)

**Thicker Than Water  
**Three Combat Cyborgs, none in condition to fight, only one able to stand. Chrono gestured with his Device and that one put her working arm up. No Other-Wolkenritter to go with them, though there must have been some recently. They had fled rather than fight after what happened to their twins.

"He was _here_ dammit!" Uno snarled. "He was here!" She grabbed an injured Combat Cyborg from the ground. "_Where is Jail?_"

_"Uno!"_ Bei barked. She hadn't been with Team 70 long, but she had learned to flinch when yelled at by the senior NCO. "Control yourself or have yourself controlled." It was not an idle threat, as the Bureau had the means to make her cybernetics lock up, rendering her helpless and unable to move at any time. It had been part of their agreement to let her take an active role in the investigation.

Uno set the Combat Cyborg down again and instead tried to tend to the wounds the cyborg had received. Moments later she let out a yelp and backed away. The yelp caused everyone's heads to turn and moments later Chrono had the three non-Bureau cyborgs teleported directly to isolation cells aboard _Circe_.

"What happened?" the Admiral demanded.

Uno shook her head in confusion. "Her cybernetics all shorted at once. That is not possible. Even if someone had meant to do it, there are redundancies and compartmentalization of systems. You _cannot_ short everything at once. The Doctor would never have designed a system where it was possible."

Chrono shook his head and called up a holowindow. "_Circe_, have the cyborgs completely isolated from external signals EM and magic. That goes for anything used to treat their injuries. Full quarantine and decontamination procedure."

Tre unconciously rubbed at her Inherent Equipment. "You think the Doctor is trying to eliminate them somehow because they know too much."

Chrono shook his head. "I think it's _possible_. Whether it's true or not isn't strictly relevant yet."

* * *

Chrono unfortunately turned out to be right. Two of the Combat Cyborgs they had captured lost their cybernetics within an hour of the event, and one of them died shortly after. The two that were still alive went into serious withdrawal symptoms twelve hours later and weren't expected to pull through. And Uno sat in the Mage Teams' mess hall and beat the table she was sitting at in frustration.

"And we have _nothing!_" The seniormost Combat Cyborg spat, breaking off a corner of the table with a particularly hard blow. She may never have learned to fight but her cybernetics were as good as any of the others.

Tre waved away the attention of the other diners, though she noted that it didn't distract either Samuel or Bei. She regarded the eldest of her sisters warily. "Calm yourself. This is unlike you." Her urge to simply _talk_ again, just to prove her voice still actually worked after so long in solitary confinement, was dying away. The old laconic Tre was back.

"He _betrayed _us. He was complicit in our near-deaths. I am not going to forget or forgive that." Uno replied.

Samuel quietly directed Bei to keep a closer eye on his charge. Uno had progressed from _desire_ to _obsession_ in her need to see Jail locked up. The Mage Commander did not entirely blame her for that given her stated reasons, but she was still going to cause trouble.

"Tre!" one of Team Seventy, the new 2IC after Cora Zeal had been reassigned, called. Mage Officer Second Class Simo Fiat, or in layman's terms a lieutenant. "Care to spar with me sometime?"

"And exactly how much should I spot you?" Tre asked sardonically. Samuel, hand to hand, could hold her off for a good long while, ten or fifteen minutes before he simply slumped to the mat from exhaustion at trying to keep up with her cybernetics. Assuming he didn't knock her down in the first two minutes; their disparity was not so great luck didn't matter. Bei she could spar with seemingly endlessly, the man just didn't tire out. The rest of the Team? They weren't fodder, but nor were they a serious challenge.

"Nothing. I want to see how well you do naturally." Simo replied, cocky.

"If you want to take her on with no rules, go ahead, but I'm having your pay docked for every day you're in sickbay Fiat." Samuel seemed amused.

"Ah, this is true sir. I miss the days when it wasn't possible to measure my coworkers by necks snapped per second." Simo said sadly. "Just per minute like yourself sir, that was so much more reassuring."

Uno turned to look at Samuel. "You know how to snap a neck, Commander?"

"I know how to do a lot of things, just like you do. Over a decade of active service does that." Samuel offered a wry smile. "Someday, I might tell you about them."

"Perhaps you should now, unless you have cybernetic implants for perfect memory?" Uno asked, a bit of good-natured teasing. She was a quick study on how to seem normal. And aware that her posistion outside the chain of command gave her the ability, nearly unique in this room, to tease Samuel and not immediately vaporize her career. "You might forget."

Samuel shrugged. "Maybe I want to forget. Maybe I don't. I'm not telling."

Uno's expression abruptly changed from slight amusement to completely closed, withdrawing into herself.

The original round of Combat Cyborg activations had a functional mage-rank, nearly A. Jail had been making a hedge against the possiblity his project would not be as successful as he hoped. None of them were trained, though, because their cybernetics had been perfectly successful, and Jail's later cyborgs had considerably less power. But mage telepathy had been something too good to pass up, and Jail had been determined to duplicate it.

That had been the purpose of the seemingly decorative "hairclip bunnyears" most of the Combat Cyborgs had. In actuality, they were cybernetics, plugged into ports in their skull, built-in radio transmission and reception. But it had none of the intimacy of telepathy, none of the transmission of emotion or the implicit trust in opening one's thoughts in such a way.

Thus the voice in Uno's head as Tre made a private inquiry of _Sister?_ was utterly flat, without emotion, without tone. It was only identifiable as Tre because Uno's implants tagged it as such. The Doctor approved of it as eliminating emotion from the transmission, leaving only cold, hard information. Uno was beginning to comprehend the stupidity of such lines of thought as she could have really used a bit of undeniable sisterly concern.

_Morality,_ Uno replied, _will take time._

_Ah._ Tre had put her time developing an appreciation of conventional morality while she was still in prison. She also noted that Simo may have divined the purpose of the "bunnyears" as well, considering he was about to touch one. "Touch that and I will murder you in your sleep, Lieutenant Fiat."

Simo had the good grace to look embaressed, though Tre honestly suspected he wasn't. She had gotten used to the lieutenant by now. He played the womanizing clown because he liked to. But he was as careful and methodical as any of them in reality. He just liked to pretend otherwise. "Curiosity. Why hair decs for a grown woman?"

"Because it confuses and upsets anyone who asks that question." Uno said, completely deadpan. Humor was a concept she had grown to appreciate rapidly, no matter how much the fine nuances of conventional morality were still being worked on. On the morality front she'd gotten around to appreciating the fact the Bureau hadn't cut her up to see how she worked early on, made it through murder shortly after she got out of prison, and was now working her way down the list of reasons why killing someone in combat was problematic.

It would have surprised her to know that there was a non-Combat Cyborg at the table which rejected most of them.

* * *

"We found someone you might be interested in, Chrono." Hayate's face in the holotransmission said. "Cowering in front of a Vita clone." The latest attack had involved two groups of Other-Wolkenritter from the start. It had been cleaned up quite efficently, partially because one of the cruiser commanders involved had made unauthorized modifications to his ship's main gun targeting software that meant both Reinforces went down in seconds.

Followed by the cruiser's entire computer system glitching out and a semi-controlled crash in a forest, but Hayate considered that an acceptable tradeoff even if the Navy didn't.

The man in question was the most wanted man in Bureau space, a supplier of Jail's and the only one who had evaded the mass arrests the Bureau had unleashed in the wake of Uno's revelations. "We'll be sending him along to you, of course," Hayate continued. "Keep in touch."

* * *

"We have spoken before, Hans." Uno said. She was the second-to-trump card in Chrono's interrogation. Hans had worked through most of the rest, which in any other case would have won a grudging respect from Chrono considering nobody else ever had.

The recognition, the pupils dilating, the eyes widening, the momentary appearance of panic, was impossible to conceal. Hans knew he was done. But he wasn't going to go down easy, at least in his head. "I have nothing to say."

Chrono leaned forward, getting in the man's face. "You think so, do you? I am an admiral, and this is a ship of war. On this ship, _I am god_." Chrono looked over to Samuel. "Space him."

Tre, who was sitting within earshot next door in case she was called in too, had a moment of something suspciously like vertigo as her eyes widened. Jail's evaluation of Chrono Harlaown had been grossly wrong.

"All right! All right! I'll tell you!"

Chrono raised an eyebrow. "More telling, then." In the end, the problem turned out to be making Hans shut up.

"Did the Admiral…mean that?" Tre asked. The interogation was over and Hans on his way, direct, no trial, to an Orbital Penal Complex. They'd try him once Jail was in custody. For now, they were worried he might somehow be able to warn Jail.

Samuel regarded her steadily, being able to navigate the corridors of the _Circe_ without looking where he was going. Tre wondered if he was merely practiced or if he had actually commited them to concious memory. "That's not the question. If you want to understand the situation, you first have to realize that I could never carry out such an order. It was clearly unlawful and my oath of service and my duties to the Navy and the Bureau mean that I cannot accept it and must prevent it being carried out if possible." Samuel replied. "Now, Admiral Harlaown _knew_ that I would never obey that order regardless of whether he meant it. So why would he give an order he knows won't be carried out?"

Tre considered for several seconds. "Playing to the crowd."

"Exactly. The Admiral does not lose his temper unless he thinks he can make a point by so doing." Samuel exchanged a nod with the duty Mage Specialist, someone from Team Ninety, stationed at the exit of flag country. "This op is probably going to be beyond us, unfortunately. If he has a complete set, or a larger set, of Combat Cyborgs, throw us at them and you'll get back pieces. Colonel Yagami's taskforce will probably take over."

* * *

It was a perfectly reasonable assumption and one that was correct. Hayate had reached the same conclusion not long after passing Hans over to Chrono's custody. However the actual orders had just come down the line. Deployment.

"We'll be taking a little vacation, most of us. My knights and I." Hayate explained to her unit. "Somewhere," Hayate said, "that we've been before. Earth."

"We going to see anyone we know this trip?" Vita asked.

"I don't believe you've ever met Jail Scaligetti." Hayate replied with amusement.

Vita frowned mightily. Then Hayate noticed that _all_ her knights were frowning, even Signum and Zafira. They felt…possessive. Hayate shook her head in amusement. Her knights felt more possessive about her homeworld then she did.

Maybe they ought to. After all, the memories of Earth they had were in their own way many times more precious to them than any she had of the planet. She had gained a family. They had gained awakening from a millenia-long nightmare.

Yuuno raised a hand. "The rest of us? I've been there before too. I think we all have."

"Well…" Hayate vacillated. "Think about all of us getting leave to Earth at once. Granted the attacks have established a pattern, but it would look funny for everyone to be off at once."

"And why would you go on leave to Earth, Yuuno-kun?" Nanoha asked. "I might, but you?"

Yuuno let the wince happen this time, since it was easier. And he had a cover. "Ah, true Nanoha."

Hayate, however, noticed the wince came too early to be a reaction to what had been said. She could guess why, too, and frowned. There were always issues with putting the band back togther. Maybe she could find something to distract Yuuno from Nanoha. Someone with more relevant interests, perhaps, and closer to the rarified level of Yuuno's thought processes then Nanoha, who could be a bit oblivious… Hayate realized the only person she knew who fit that description was Shamal.

That was absolutely not acceptable. Sometime towards the end of her Earth-based education Hayate had realized that her knights had absolutely no intention of setting any ground rules about her conduct towards them. She could get away with anything, probably up to and including technical rape. So Hayate set rules for _herself_ because she had no desire to accidentally wander over the edge of the abyss and end up treating them like one of their previous masters had. Foremost among them was to stop harassing her knights, and to never interfere in their romantic life or lack thereof again.

Just another impossible task, another brick wall to bash her head against. This one, however, was going to be simpler than many of the buearucratic headaches she'd dealt with. It _had_ to be. Unless somebody had a spare Regius Graz sitting around plotting to keep Yuuno from finding a new girlfriend.

Hayate wasn't entirely sure about that anymore. The last few weeks had made her wary of assuming there weren't replacement opponents hiding somewhere.

* * *

Everyone involved with the capture of Jail Scaligetti filed into the briefing area aboard the _Circe_, along with a few people who weren't involved but were there to supervise the two Combat Cyborgs.

Signum directed a respectful nod towards Samuel, then another to Tre as Hayate was outlining her plan. That surprised the Combat Cyborg. In Signum's opinion, anyone who could fight off one of her doubles was quite skilled even by Wolkenritter standards, worthy of serious consideration. After her, Zafira as well, acknowledging Tre with a quick upwards jerk of the head that was returned.

Samuel examined the map they were being briefed with after Hayate had finished her outline. "I have family near there."

Hayate glanced at him. "There's no one for a hundred kilometers. More, really."

"Near is a relative term when you're talking about the Rub' al-Khali." The Arabic pronounciation was flawless, and Hayate recalled Samuel's father had been Earth-born. "I have an uncle and a number of cousins at Sheyab, working the oil fields. It's not a bad place to hide, actually. Illusions to hide from overhead discovery and nobody's going to bother surveying that part of the world with ground-penetrating radar."

Hayate stared at him as if he had grown horns. Samuel looked up at her blankly. "What? I'm _required_ to be conversant in military technologies from most worlds the Bureau could deploy me to."

"The worst thing is he's more lifelike than I am." Uno deadpanned. That produced a tired-sounding chuckle from someone. "You will be providing the barrier, and your knights will make the apprehension. _Circe_ and her attendant two cruisers will arrive to reinforce the barrier if necessary and help mop up. I do see one problem with this plan, though."

Hayate gave the Combat Cyborg her best I-Am-The-Colonel look. "Is that so?"

Uno gazed back levelly, not impressed. Perhaps, Hayate thought, it was that she didn't compare well to Jail staring. "Father will self-destruct the base to avoid capture. He has doubtless made backup plans for his own death as he has a habit of doing that. Which would leave the Bureau down several of its finest with its ability to combat the Rogue Wolkenritter severely compromised, and Father still free. None of you have the computer skills to prevent such a thing."

Hayate looked guiltily from side to side, but spotted no one to help her with that. Uno continued speaking. "You do have several other options. You could send myself, since I have both the skills and a native familarity with the Doctor's systems. You could send Amy Linetta, who also has the requisite skills. You might be able to send a Mage Team tech specialist and get away with it, but I personally doubt that. All of these options would require being defended by at least one and more likely more than one person."

Hayate sighed. "I don't think the Admiral will enjoy putting his wife in danger without at least a whole Mage Team to back her up, and we can't very well smuggle Amy in with us either." She looked around again, speculatively, and her eyes settled on Samuel. "You were a tech specialist once, according to your file Commander. Your family is from Earth. You've spent time in the company of my knights before."

Samuel's mouth fell open for a moment. "And I had to use a different Device for the assist. I don't _have_ LH anymore, Colonel, and my skills are pretty rusty."

_LH?_ He didn't recognize the mental voice at first. Calm, controlled, but there was something lurking, something he recognized from others he'd worked with. Seen too much, fought too much, no longer able to sleep a whole night. Haunted. There was a shakyness to it as well, like the sender wasn't used to using telepathy. Tre waved from where she was lurking towards the back of the room, answering one question.

_Laying Hands. It was a pair of gloves, so like some miracle of the Sankt Kaiser, you lay your hands upon the offending computer and the Device forces it to do your bidding._ Samuel sent back. "Colonel, I think our best option would be to use me as a teleport marker for the Cyborgs. Both of them. On my own I probably won't be a sufficent defense for Uno."

"And if they turn on you?" Hayate had the good grace to make it sound like her heart wasn't really in the question. Or maybe it really wasn't; her personal experiences probably favored believing in redemption.

"I know the codephrase to make them lock up, and we bring in Captain Linetta and anyone who can cast and move." Samuel replied.

Hayate sighed. "You will at least make an attempt before we bring in the cyborgs."

Samuel mentally winced but was too disciplined to protest a decision of a superior officer in public. "Yes Ma'am."

* * *

"The colonel doesn't trust us. She should." Tre observed to Vita, who had temporarily taken over looking after the two Combat Cyborgs for a bit. The truth was Vita was curious how the older ones compared to Subaru, and so far the junior Wolkenritter had been mildly impressed.

"Right, because you are such trustworthy people. You have his DNA." Vita had almost phrased it differently, then remembered that would awkward.

Tre shook her head. "If I meant to kill people, I would have already done it. In the briefing I could have activated my IS and dealt with Hayate and the Commander before anyone could stop me."

"There were higher-value targets in the room then him. Perhaps your focus is a result of enjoying your time with the Commander?" Uno's tone said far more than her words.

"Perhaps, but I doubt Wolkenritter have easy necks to snap." Tre looked to the ceiling in exasperation. "As for your insinuations, this is a conversation I should remove my head before entering, isn't it?"

Vita actually giggled, which would have had Hayate or the other Wolkenritter checking her for signs of delerium. The two Combat Cyborgs didn't know her well enough to register it as anything more than slightly odd. This, Vita thought, would be _hilarous_.

"You find him attractive." Uno held up a hand. "Stop, sister, spare us your instant denials. He is not exactly ugly, now, is he? Not only is he solicitous about your needs, more then Father was, he is also genuine. The first male who has ever geniunely cared about your existence, much less your well-being. I _know_ the Doctor did not go mucking about in your brain, that must affect you." Uno pursed her lips slightly. "Of course this is all true of both of us…"

Tre took the opening Uno had unwittingly provided. "You saying you're attracted to him too?"

"One could do much worse." Uno opined. "I do not actively crave his attention, personally, though it is welcome when I have it. And on occasion hard to let go. But unlike you, I do not find it necessary to get through the day."  
"Candid." Tre observed. She had forgotten how dangerous it was to get Uno talking about interpersonal relations. The most senior Combat Cyborg had no concept of embarrassment and no use for privacy. She also far too much brainpower to spare and she _loved_ to analyze. "Anyways, you also managed imply you find Bei attractive."

"He is my anchor to normal people until such time as I can fully understand them myself. He is also happily married. His wife is a member of the Saint Church involved in charitable work and by all accounts a wonderful woman. I know how to pick my battles." Uno replied serenely. "You should probably learn to chose yours before they are thrust upon you and just tell-"

"Finish that sentence and I will be forced to punch you in the face for being a smug superior asshat." Tre warned.

"Sounds like he's yours if you're interested, Uno." Vita was amused. "However I do have to warn you."

"About what?" Uno asked curiously.

"He's my friend. That means you break his heart, I break yours. As in crack open your cybernetic ribcage, tear your still-beating heart from your body, and stomp on it in front of you. We clear?" Vita smiled sweetly as she said it. There was absolutely no doubt in Uno's mind the youngest Wolkenritter meant every word.

Perhaps this conversation hadn't been wise after all. Uno suspected that now that the warning was out there, full scrutiny applied. If she'd never said anything, it wouldn't.

Not that she had any current interests beyond assuring Jail got locked up again. "Fine, but if you manage to lose him somehow before then I'm sure between Tre and myself we can arrange something suitably horrific."

"No worries." Vita replied with grin.

* * *

The plan had unrolled perfectly. At least until Jail had decided to indulge in his hobby of screwing with people's brains and selected Signum as a viable candidate, unleashing things he did not understand.

Vita started talking. "Look I really need to go-"

Samuel made a quick slash-across-the-throat gesture and pointed at the door before immersing himself in the computer again. He didn't need an explanation from her, only a warning.

He wasn't getting anywhere with the computer and if Vita was needed elsewhere things were heating up. "_Circe._"

A window of Amy Linetta popped up. "You need the cyborgs?"

"Yes."

Both of them in their old cyborg gear. The flamelike blades of Tre's IS snapped to life. Uno attacked the computer console, popping up multiple holographic windows besides and generally multitasking things in a that the normal human brain wasn't supposed to be able to do. It had taken her less than two seconds to crack the basic security, and now she was engaged in a duel with whoever ran the system. Their actions were very familiar, very predictable...

Uno smirked. Quattro? Ah, so she didn't realize what she was up against. This would be _fun_.

Tre, meanwhile, was waiting silently. She would have to kill sisters today, but the thought left her strangely unworried. Some of her sisters had always needed killing, certainly much more than any of the mages who'd served the Bureau she had killed. No nightmares, not from this.

Several minutes passed, but nothing happened. _Tre._ The tinny voice of Uno's cybernetics. _We have incoming. Including Quattro._

A half-dozen Combat Cyborgs, three of them very young, one of them midsize and wearing a familiar cape, and two nearly as big as Tre herself. Tre also noted, in shock, that one of the taller ones was _male_. Even her shock didn't account for the fact that Samuel got to them first, Uno must have warned him earlier. He hit the male cyborg from the left, two quick cuts that would have nicked both collar bones and severed important muscles. It would have left a human in a very bad posistion to continue fighting due to the pain of using their arms.

The male cyborg fought on despite his injuries. They weren't Wolkenritter, and they couldn't simply soak up stabbing or cutting strikes like nothing had happened to them, but Combat Cyborgs were unquestionably made of sterner stuff than humans.

Tre simply cannonballed into them. There was no time and she had no training in how to disable someone by using a blade. It was not as if she'd had a choice; if there had been one opponent, she could have simply held them at the point of the blade. Any more, and she would have to kill a few before she could think about capturing. She forced one of the smaller ones over with the weight and mass of her body, using the blades on her ankles to make sure they stayed down permanently. She flicked a wrist out, cutting the other one's hair entirely too short, along with about four centimeters of scalp.

One tall one. And Quattro. She wasn't sure where the other child, the one she hadn't killed yet, had gone, but Uno would call for help if she needed it. Quattro hadn't even stopped on seeing Tre coming at her, spinning on one heel and darting back out.

Energy blades flared on the tall one's wrists and ankles, and they almost sneered…but they weren't as quick or as practiced as she was with that sort of weapon. The strikes flew back and forth, but this wasn't nearly as difficult as fighting the Signum clone had been. Tre worked through an offensive set with ease to get the measure of her opponent before applying pressure, harder and faster strikes, more of them. Cut her hamstrings and she goes down; cut her throat and she stays that way.

The male was down now, so was the last child, though the child was not down and dead. Samuel pointed her at the door the Combat Cyborgs had entered through and she stood in it seconds before something went terribly wrong: Tre couldn't see. Just a grey haze. She couldn't see her own limbs. It did not take a genius to understand; Quattro and her I.S. Tre knew two things, however. First, she was in a doorway and if she did not move, Quattro could not get through.

And second at the speed she moved with her I.S. active, Quattro couldn't land a blow on her without getting sliced up in return as long as Tre was working through a defensive or offensive set. So she started doing that, randomizing her motions, careful not to move from the doorway. She did not _have_ to see her opponent to strike them.

Uno meanwhile had full control of the complex computers, which was why Quattro had come looking to try and deal with the problem at the source, still not realizing what she was fighting. She had noted the bit going on at the doorway, and on a whim…

Ah. There it was. Directed EM pulse equipment, high-quality stuff. Simple nuclear reaction EMP is actually fairly easy to defeat even with Earth-based technology, and it takes magic or a lot of technical effort to produce more power. The Doctor had put in both. Uno carefully directed a burst through the room Quattro was occupying, also carefully ensuring Tre was not caught in the beam.

Tre's vision cleared, she saw Quattro toppling over, and she was on the barely younger cyborg in seconds. A blade to Quattro's throat, even as she noted that the other Cyborg could not raise her arms in defense or cry out. Just as well. She had no interest in anything Quattro could say.

This was long in coming. Long, and very necessary. When Tre had early thought that some of her sisters had always needed killing, it had been Quattro's name that came to her. But she could hear footsteps behind her, and something compelled her to wait. The decision was not entirely in her hands, that would be Samuel with the lock-phrase that would shut her down as well…

"Have you ever murdered before?" The question shocked Tre, of course she had-

Like hell, Tre realized. Of course she _hadn't_. He didn't see morality that way, he wasn't a civilian. Samuel was a soldier, and even a soldier of the Bureau had to believe that not all killing is equal. She had fought her enemies openly, even worn a uniform after a fashion. She was no spy, no terrorist, just another soldier like him. And if she didn't remember the faces of those she had killed, that was because she knew better than to create her own nightmares

Such a simple thing, liberation.

A hand on her shoulder. "Death would be kind. If you leave her alive, she will die by millimeters as time in solitary slowly strips her soul and whatever passes for her sanity. Morality or vengence, it all works out the same."

But he hadn't said the lock-phrase that would have stopped her either. Enough rope to hang herself, or…what? Or he didn't really care one way or another if Quattro lived or died, but he _did_ care that Tre killed or spared her as a considered act? Tre shook that relevation off as something for later, much later, and stepped back from her disabled sister.

"Bind her. She might still be able to move under normal muscle power once she gets her bearings back." Tre said, voice rough with adrendaline.

"Guess we were wrong." Samuel observed softly.

"About what?" Tre asked, looking around as she hauled a now both bound and unresponsive Quattro into the room.

"Blood. Not thicker." Samuel replied.

"Not thicker than…oh." Tre suddenly got it. "That's it isn't it, the lock phrase? Someone was being cute."


	14. Costs Paid, Costs To Come

Again, familiarity with _Monsters_ is recommended, as a lot of the fallout from that will be dealt with here.

**Costs Paid, Costs To Come  
**Chrono, meanwhile, had discovered something to do while the operations on the ground went on.

"War Cruisers dropping out of the Dimensional Sea. Count six."

Not now, not here… Chrono restrained a need to swear. "Bring us about. Signal to _Enif_ and _Athra_, prepare to engage."

The captain looked up sharply. "Sir?"

"Earth has the means to try to fight these people, just barely. And they _will _try to fight, some of them for high-minded reasons and some less so. So these wannabe Belkans take the easy way and drop nuclear reaction weaponry on cities until Earth surrenders, not realizing there's no world government and they're never going to get some of these people to surrender in a million years. Billions of people die. Belkan Civil War all over again." This was exactly the situation the Time-Space Administrative Bureau had been formed to prevent. The Bureau had been formed to prevent killing on such a scale ever again, and inscribed deep into the collective soul of the Bureau was the phrase _never again_. "Signal Headquarters that we are engaging the enemy."

The _Athra _was an old warhorse. Like nearly all her class she had been decommissioned, and saved from the chopping block for a few brief months longer by replacing the old Long Arch command center. Still after that she had gone away, sent off so that her children could replace her. In a few months she would have been gone entirely, subsumed into the great scrapyards orbiting Administrated World #30 and broken down into her component parts and materials for the civilian starship industry.

But then the Bureau had called the surviving L-class patrol warships to the colors again. _Athra_'s long history of service was not forgotten, but she was in terrible shape, stripped of engines, wards, and weapons when they had found her. The engines had been simple to locate. The Bureau had not been able to locate an L-class main gun for her, nor an L-class ward generator. They had instead installed a M-class ward generator, but the M-class gun simply would not fit in the L-class hull. In the process of discovering this, though, they had found that the subsystems for the Arc-En-Ciel had never been removed, and installed an Arc rather than the standard main gun.

Which meant that _Athra _was going to punch far above her weight today. The first shot of the First Battle of Earth was fired and completely erased a Belkan War Cruiser from existence. The others saw that and did the only reasonable thing left to them, filling space with nuclear ordnance to kill _Athra_ before it could fire again. Over a hundred warheads were inbound and the Bureau ships' secondaries struggled to shoot them all down.

It was around this time that Earth collectively woke up to what was going on in their orbit. The starships were relatively stealthy, the wards trapping their heat and absorbing radar, and their emissions were of a completely different sort from what Earth technology would look for. But the weapons, the heat and light, that could not be hidden. And the bloom of fire, brighter than the daytime sun, as Chrono's _Circe_ cut in front of _Athra_ to protect it from a volley of nuclear warheads thirty-strong, really got the attention of those on the ground.

The flagship was lost in the brillant light and EM wash of the explosions, then emerged again, her wards flaring brilliant blue as she came about again to bring her weapons on target. _Athra_ fired once more and erased another War Cruiser. _Enif_ moved in, main gun spitting bolts that would erase a city block with ease. _Circe_ moved up to support the cruiser, her own weapons reaching out.

The War Cruisers kept coming, recklessly charging the planet rather than manuvering to bring weapons to bear. "Going to get a leaker." Chrono observed to his aide and wife. "And once it gets between us and the planet we'll have trouble shooting at it." _Circe_'s main gun could crack a planetary crust, creating an instant volcano, and _Athra_'s Arc-En-Ciel could make nuclear-reaction weaponry look like a string of firecrackers. Firing either of them at a target where missing would hit an inhabited planetary surface was intensely stupid, and prohibited by Bureau law except under the most extreme circumstances.

Amy Harlaown, formerly Amy Linetta, nodded and went to work. The Data Mage, they called her, her skill with computer systems matched only by certain Combat Cyborgs who had been purpose-designed for the role. "We'll knock its wards down. Shall I have the Mage Teams ready?"

Chrono closed his eyes a moment. His force had approximately sixty-five flight mages embarked. There had never been enough Mage Teams to go around. With more than half the Navy statically guarding Bureau planets from attacks by the Other-Wolkenritter, they had been able to to fully staff the patrol groups for the first time in over a decade. But Chrono's group was not a patrol group and they did not have their full complements. It shouldn't have mattered. The Wolkenritter should have been enough for this mission. But they couldn't be in two places at once.

Sixty-five mages against an unknown number of crew and mages. They had packed over five hundred mages onto one of these ships in the first encounter the Bureau had with them. Would he simply be sending good men and women to their deaths if he gave this order? Did he even have a choice? _Enif_ could still engage the enemy ship if it got past, but the enemy ship's course would take it over heavily populated areas of the Indian subcontinent while that was going on.

"Captain." Chrono called. "Command of the task force is yours. If one of them gets through, we will commit to a boarding action." No, he didn't have a choice. But if he was to send good people on a suicide mission today, he would lead them himself. And there was one more thing he could do to try and save lives here, today.

* * *

"What did you _do?_" Tre asked. Jail had seen better days, days when he wasn't suffering multiple burns, days when he still had all his fingers, days when his back hadn't apparently been used as a whipping post. He was deep in shock, Klarer Wind and Shamal's full attention on keeping him from dying.

"No more than what was necessary." Signum said, covering herself. Nobody could ever know what had happened here, not the truth of it. _Especially _Hayate.

"Far less than was deserved." Uno said softly. "Far, far less. But then, you can only kill most men once anyways." She looked directly at Signum, and something passed between them without words or telepathy. Uno knew what had happened here, she had seen it in the base computers. Uno was aware that Signum, Zafira, and Shamal had completely lost it and gone on a killing spree. Uno had erased that fact from the computers as well. The secret was safe.

"An unfortunate limitation." Samuel observed. "Of course, one that may not apply. But then we'd have to find him again while he turned more little girls into cyborgs."

"He did them a favor!" That would be the male cyborg, entering the conversation. Tre had thought Samuel had killed him from the sheer quantity of wounds, but actually that had just been what was needed to make him stop fighting because it hurt too much.

Vita sighed and to his clear discomfort looked directly at him. "Kid," the irony of the apparent child addressing the apparent late-teenager as "kid" was utterly lost on Vita, "did he happen to mention you'd have three months to live from when you had the operation? No? Didn't think so."

"My little sister and I would be _gods-_"

Vita shook her head. "You don't have scars on your body or calluses on your hands. You're not a fighter, you're not a worker, and you're not from the streets. What are you, bored rich kid? Volunteered? Power is never free. I am the cost of power. If you don't have the friends to help you, the training to sustain you, the resources to stage your defense, somebody takes it away and makes a real mess of your life. You're lucky, kid. The Bureau will offer you a chance to help them, to gain the friends, the training, the resources. All you have to do is follow their rules. It's a good offer, kid. You should take it." Vita gestured to the surviving younger cyborg as well. "And your sister too."

Samuel pressed his earpiece into his ear briefly, then shook his head. "Dame Signum, you might have company here soon. Be ready." He turned to Uno. "Day's not over Uno. We have a starship to steal." Samuel said, summoning a holowindow. "_Circe_, two to recover."

* * *

There had been sixty-seven Navy combat mages aboard the fleet, counting Chrono. Signum counted heads as they returned aboard _Circe_, having herself just conveyed Jail and Quattro to holding cells.

She came up thirty short. Agito, hovering near her, shook her head. "War never does change."

"I," Signum paused briefly, as though considering her answer or confused, "would not know." She was intimately familiar with battle, personal combat, but this was different.

Signum did not know what it was to lose a comrade. Wolkenritter did not truly die, and masters and mistresses came and went. Losing them was a failure, but neither common nor truly mourned. Signum had never formed any real connection with a master or mistress before Hayate. They had been insane, dangerous men and women most often, eager for power and eager to hurt people with and for it. The few masters and mistresses she could have formed any kind of respect or empathy towards were simply desperate for a weapon, any weapon, and hadn't known or cared about the terrible cost attending the Book of Darkness. Desperation resulted in people becoming stupid and brave. The combination did not typically last long.

Signum tried to imagine how she would react to losing one of the other knights, or Hayate. She could not. The still-simmering anger at Scaligetti, the shame she had felt for her loss of control and giving into the urge to simply torture him like in the old days, vanished into a void she struggled to comprehend the shape and size of.

Familiar faces, Samuel and Team 70. She counted them as well and came up short by five. More than half the team was missing.

"What happened on that ship?" Signum asked of Samuel.

"What didn't happen." Samuel replied. "Everything happened. I fought over a hundred different opponents, according to Steelheart. I killed or incapacitated eighty-two of them. Just me, Signum. Nevermind everybody else, that was just _me_. I don't think anybody who came out alive will count less than fifty people they personally defeated. I lived it, fought it, I _bled_ it." There were two rents in his Barrier Jacket. One of them was a shallow, very shallow, cut that had already scabbed. The other was still oozing blood slowly. And at least one spot where a button was burned away. "I was there from the breach through an airlock all the way to the bridge. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this happened. But it couldn't have. If I had attempted something like this I would be lying aboard that ship in a pool of my own blood somewhere."

"You survived, though." Signum pointed out.

Samuel looked over at her sharply. "How do you internalize something like this?"

Signum had been waiting for a question, but not that question. She had expected "how do you deal with this" instead. She had believed him to most likely want to deny, not prove, the reality of it. "What if I told you it is better not to?"

"Then the question stands." Samuel replied. "I did this. I have to believe it's real. Denying it is the first step down a road to losing contact with reality and I'm not prepared to go there."

Signum nodded slowly. "You walk yourself through it. You remember. You see yourself do it until you understand how, and why." She looked at him, tilting her head a little to the left, her version of a questioning look. "And perhaps, you can answer one of my questions. How do you cope?"

Samuel's response was telepathic, clearly trying to keep his own team from listening. That didn't seem like a serious concern, though, as the remaining two of them had the apathetic look of someone who has fought beyond any reasonable limits and can no longer even put one foot in front of another without conscious effort. _Because I have to. I am the commander. There is no more effective way to destroy the morale and mental well-being of my team then for me to crack myself. I am the commander, and I am not allowed to fall apart._

That was insane. It made perfect logical sense to Signum. But it was insane nonetheless, a logic she could not accept emotionally. If you lead, you could not mourn? Not publically at least. And if you could not mourn, what else might cause trouble? All your fears, all your needs and wants and tears, reserved for your pillow alone. No wonder command destroyed people. No wonder Hayate was so glad to have her knights; she could confide in them, tell them of her troubles, and nothing would happen to damage her leadership of them.

"Could you look after Uno for a bit?" Samuel asked. "I need to see to my wounded." It occurred to Signum to point out Samuel was wounded as well; he must mean non-ambulatory. Perhaps the five missing mages weren't dead. Signum looked around at the battered survivors of the fleet's Mage Teams and couldn't really convince herself it was true. Not for all five.

The not-really-Combat Cyborg was also there. Uno looked shaken, but didn't appear to be injured. Signum nodded to Samuel. "Of course." She had to pull Uno away gently, not because Uno resisted, but because the cyborg did not appear entirely aware of her surroundings at the moment.

Uno looked dazedly at Signum. "That," the seniormost Combat Cyborg observed, "was all utterly insane, and I will never do anything remotely like it again. I will never use a car or even approach a roadway, I will lock every door or window I ever sleep behind, and I will never take any risks again, because I have completely used up whatever luck I was allotted in the universe."

"Bad?" Signum asked.

"I have no base of experience with which to evaluate that." Uno replied. Signum was surprised, considering the Combat Cyborg's state, that she was capable of that degree of rational thought. "However given that at least twenty people died within arm's length of me and I personally had to kill two, I would guess so."

The act of analysis, its familiarity, appeared to calm Uno somewhat. Signum noted this and continued. "What did you notice about the enemy?"

Uno took several calming breaths before she continued. "They spoke Belkan. Accented slightly, but I did not recognize it as being from any of the major Belkan-settled worlds. White uniforms and Barrier Jackets. I saw three different styles, but they all had a single row of buttons, left side. One style had a cap, as well." A frown. "Their language, terminology and slang, did not suggest Bureau training."

Signum raised an eyebrow at Uno. "You remember it well enough for that?"

"I tapped into the ship's internal communications. And I have a perfect memory." Uno continued to frown. "The lexicon seemed slightly archaic. Some of the words are not in common use anymore, even among native Belkan speakers. They fought like Belkans, in close, using close combat Devices. Swords, axes, one-handed weapons mainly, a few two-handers like Levantine or Graf Eisen, but not many. They did not seem familiar with the capabilities of Midchildan magic either. There were a number of times they charged a mage who had room to light off a heavy beam attack and got blasted for it." Uno turned her head to look directly at Signum. "They really did fight like Belkans. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"The style is Old Belkan, but a lot of people fought in the Old Belkan style. The uniforms, no, they are not familiar. But what are the odds the Bureau missed some Old Belkan world?" Signum asked.

"Low. The Bureau's own controlled space encompasses over 80% of the Belkan Empire and the rest falls under the category of the Non-Administrated Worlds. The total area that is regularly surveyed by Bureau ships is nearly twice the size of the Empire." Uno replied. Being a cyborg must be nice, Signum thought. Even though Signum had a perfect memory too, her ability to process information was still within human norms. Uno could read a standard-sized holoscreen at speeds that anyone else watching would only see a blur as Uno scrolled down.

"And Old Belka did not have the fetish for nuclear arms." Signum added. "More exotic reactions. Simple nuclear reaction weaponry seemed crude to them."

Uno raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I was caught in an antimatter blast once." Signum replied levelly, quite aware she was probably the only person in the universe who could say that and be taken seriously. "It is not one of my most pleasant memories."

"Probably a better solution to the problem you posed at the time than most." Uno's tone was light, not _exactly _calm, but not the haunted it had been earlier. Signum wasn't sure if the Combat Cyborg had just offered a compliment or an insult. Most people would consider being told they were enough of a problem that antimatter weapons were used on them as the best solution a grave insult, but Uno was not most people and could well be expressing a sort of twisted admiration. Or perhaps it was both insult and compliment at the same time.

Tre appeared, or more accurately ran up. "Uno! Are you-"

"Uninjured. In body at least." Uno replied. "Ask me again in a week about my mind."

"And the rest of Team Seventy?" Tre demanded. She didn't care that she'd probably left an opening for Uno to tease her with; if Uno said anything teasing _now_then Tre was pretty sure she'd be forgiven for knocking the computer-specialist cyborg to the deck.

"The Commander is only slightly injured and I would guess will be fit for duty within a couple hours, as was Veteran Mage Specialist Dust. Senior Mage Specialist Bei somehow managed to avoid being injured at all and is probably the only combat mage aboard this ship at the moment who can say that. Mage Specialist Altima has a severe skull fracture but that happened early so a medic could attend to her. I would assume she will make a full recovery. Veteran Mage Specialist Heinrich, Veteran Mage Specialist Molders, and Mage Officer Second Class Citronen were all killed in-" Uno's voice hitched from its matter of fact delivery, and Signum realized that Uno had seen them die. Uno had meant it that she was not really a "Combat" Cyborg, and she had never actually seen a death until today. Now it had intruded into her personal space in the most violent and confrontational way possible. "Killed in action. I do not know what happened to Simo Fiat."

"Find out." Tre had clearly meant it as a suggestion from the way her face twisted in surprise at the sound of her own voice, but it came out like an order.

"It isn't that simple, Tre." Uno said, and a note of frustration entered her voice. "I was there. He did _something_ and managed to clear the bridge completely on his own. Literally clear. There was no one on the bridge _including him_by the time the rest of us got there. The fleet ships tracked no teleports and the Belkans had raised their jammers in any case. Simo somehow wiped out at least sixty armed mages at a stroke, and himself, and none of us know how."

"Dissolution." Signum muttered.

Both of the Combat Cyborgs turned towards her, but it was Uno who spoke. "Explain."

"Midchildan magic is more stressful on the body than Belkan." Signum began, "and a Midchildan mage more likely to suffer injury for extended casting or drain. What is not said, because few individuals have the willpower to even try, is that a Mid-style mage is capable of literally consuming their body to power castings. They call it dissolution, and I have seen it happen twice in a small way. If you have the will, and I understand it is an excruciatingly painful process for even a minor drain, you could use your entire body to power one last casting. I do not know of that ever actually happening."

To the conversation was added a fourth person, one who no one really expected, wearing the black longcoat of a Navy mage, but it was unmarked. And the pink hair…bunnyears radio transmission and reception implants, but somehow resurfaced with a black material to match the longcoat and uniform. The color contrast, even in Signum's rather uninterested opinion of fashion, was awful.

"Sette?" Tre asked hesitantly. She had to admit the Navy mage's outfit was quite striking on her protégé, but considering what had just happened to a lot of people who wore it, not entirely welcome.

"Tre." Sette made reflexively to salute, then seemed to realize she was talking to the wrong kind of superior and stopped. "It has been some time. I am glad to see you are well." The inimitable, near-robotic tones were familiar and almost comforting. Sette spoke in a voice robbed of all emotion or inflection, something that a computer ought to be making, except that Sette had a much greater vocabulary than any speech program Tre had ever encountered.

However, the old Sette would never have included the pleasantries, and it took Tre a couple of seconds to get past that. "Why are you here?"

"Before the Bureau spoke to either of you," Sette included Uno with a gesture, "they spoke with me. I was quite willing to fight for them, but it was determined that it would be unwise to place me in a posistion where I might be required to bring Quattro in alive." For the first time since Sette's activation date, the first round of Combat Cyborgs had never been _born _in any normal sense, Tre heard emotion in Sette's voice. "As I would do no such thing."

It was Uno who asked the question, since Tre could not come to accept the choked, adrenaline-heavy tone from Sette that easily. "What _would_ you do, Sette?"

Sette turned and fixed Uno with a stare. "I would kill her, Uno. Much as she tried to kill you and Tre." Still the same tone, rage distilled into a sound, but no expression. The contrast was interesting to Uno, in much the same way that she had an interest in all things paradoxical. Like the Doctor, hers was an orderly mind that could not accept paradox. No one should be able, physically, to talk that way and have no discernible expression. Uno made a mental note to examine the specifications of Sette's particular enhancements again.

Sette's voice lapsed, without transition, into its normal monotone again. "This would be an unwelcome result for everyone involved. So I instead spent the time you were hunting them down undergoing a crash-course in Mage Team training. I am currently a personal aide to Admiral Harlaown, until such time as I am assigned to a Mage Team."

Sette glanced at the blood on the deck closer to the teleport receiving area. "Which will probably be today or tomorrow considering what just happened."

Agito chipped in, reminding everyone of her presence. "The Bureau is going to go to war, so I'd guess so." That announcement was greeted with a long, uncomfortable silence.

"The Bureau has never fought a war before." Uno noted. "Though for its first decade you could argue it was conducting wartime operations. Three different Non-Administrated Worlds have declared war on the Bureau at various times, but only one of them possessed the means to hurt a Bureau starship and none of them had interstellar travel, so they were not regarded as serious declarations."

It was an unwelcome and unfamiliar feeling for Signum, to be out of her depth. Would the Bureau fight? Yes, it would fight. It had no other choice by now. A long time associating with the field-grade officers and senior NCOs of the Bureau had given Signum a good idea of what it would look like when it came. They were competent and ably lead at that level. They would fight well. But as for the higher ranks, there was only one Chrono. Signum respected Admirals Mizetto and Lowran, but they were both administrative admirals more than combat leaders. And she barely knew anything about the rest of the Bureau's leadership.

And Ground Forces was in ruins, their morale and their officer corps both destroyed by the arrest of their head officer for treason and the failures at Cranagan. Navy, Air Force, and Headquarters had about three thousand combat mages in all. Not enough to fight a war. Ground Forces had over a million. They would be needed.

And Signum didn't doubt that her understanding of what else was required was limited. Logistics, for example. Once upon a time, she'd had to hoard even expended cartridges because the casings were are hard to come by. Now…well, now she still hoarded her expended cartridge casings, going through and picking them up after a fight, but it was force of habit. Of the ten cartridges she carried, only two of them had been charged by Shamal like in the old days. One had been charged by Signum herself, a luxury she had not been able to indulge in centuries, and the remainder charged off what amounted to a glorified plugin outlet back on Mid. She didn't know where new casings came from, but Signum was very aware there were seven separate types of cartridge in Bureau service currently and if something happened to stop them getting to people who needed them…

So many things to go wrong, when you had to win more than the battle. So many things you couldn't control. Signum didn't like it.

* * *

"We should have been there." Shamal observed softly. A day had passed, and the final count was in. Twenty-five bodies. Many times the worst she'd ever seen a Bureau operation turn out.

"Wouldn't have helped the cause much." Vita replied. "We had to make sure the loonies with the cybernetics made it into custody. Space combat isn't my thing but I'm pretty sure if they'd actually tried to fight Chrono's guys instead of making a suicide run to land troops there was a risk they'd win. Then we'd all be needed to get back to an Administrated World alive. They pay Chrono to cover the angles, so he covered the angles."

Hayate wondered if she had somehow died and gone to an alternate universe where Vita was the mature one. Still... "And," she said softly, "I would prefer not to have lost one of you. Even you would not all have come back from that."

"Command math." Zafira rumbled. He was in his wolf form, as he preferred when not in combat. Or, more recently, when not in company with Otto. He wouldn't call it dating; a meeting of the odd ones out. Otto might attach romantic overtones to it, but Zafira wasn't prepared to go that far. Occupational hazard of being a Wolkenritter, with a Wolkenritter's past of being exploited by various masters and mistresses. "Don't like command math." Was his life really worth that much more than twenty-five of the Navy's mages? He knew, objectively, that this was probably so because of the simple fact he could have fought them all and beaten them. But he did not truly _believe_ it.

"No one likes command math." Hayate said. "They simply learn it well. I, on the other hand, am glad I have my whole family with me today."

And they were glad to be there too.

Especially since by rights they probably shouldn't be, save for Vita.

With Earth going slightly crazy over the battle in orbit, they were all here, helping to escort Bureau people and dependents back off the planet. They had already picked up Lindy Harlaown, who was currently visiting with Chrono, and Gil Graham, which had not been a pleasant experience. Hayate might not blame Graham, but Graham had knowingly and purposefully done immense harm to Hayate. That made him an enemy in the eyes of the Wolkenritter regardless of what their mistress thought.

Signum noted that Tre had been heavily involved in this. Chrono had in fact trusted a small scratch team of Navy mages including the Combat Cyborg with Nanoha Takamachi's family. Tre did not appear entirely happy with her continued service; signing on to capture Jail she must have had some kind of plan for an after frame that was currently being held off.

Uno, on the other hand, accepted it with a satisfied calm. She had an after frame as well, but it involved working with Hayate's command anyways. And Signum had to admit she had greatly underestimated what being able to remotely connect to any computer in existence would mean. Uno had gotten rather close with Shamal as the resident expert on the Wolkenritter's Devices, learning everything she could, pointing out vulnerabilities in their design. Watching the two plot together was not an entirely comfortable experience ever since Signum had learned they had discovered a method of hacking into Levantine and making the Device simply explode.

The only good news was that it took five minutes when they found it. The bad news was that Uno was working on ways to make it shorter and was already down to three minutes to execute. It would certainly make the next time she fought her twin much easier, of course, but Signum was not sure she could ever entirely trust a clone of Jail. She hoped Shamal came up with a way to close the vulnerability in her Device soon.

"You have your next assignments." Hayate said, all business again. "Carry them out."

Signum and Zafira made for the teleporter. Hayate, Shamal, and Vita followed.

* * *

Tre did not. She was just coming off a sleep cycle; she had learned that aboard ship such concepts as "day" and "night" were at best relative, and more likely nonexistent. Those who could be treated with the means available had been treated; those who could be saved, saved. There was, however, one casuality still left aboard _Circe_ and everyone was rotating through that responsibility as well

Mage Specialst Greta Lanser, Belkan descent, fifteen years old. She was part of Team Fifty-Eight. Or, to be more precise, she _was _Team Fifty-Eight now, the rest of her Mage Team having been killed in the assault against the Belkan ship. It was more than a fifteen-year-old, even one who had made it through a Bureau training regimen and a year of active duty, should be required to bear. Shamal had been the one to classify her a suicide risk, and Shamal had been the first to pull a shift sitting with her.

Now it was Tre's turn, and she wasn't really sure what to do. Lanser didn't look up as Tre gestured to the person sitting with Lanser now.

"Wolkenritter, or did someone find a pysch specialist finally?" Simply tired. Not choked up. The question was not as mad as it appeared, since Tre was currently wearing Headquarters/Ground Forces brown formals, her clothing for the last few weeks. At least one member of _Circe_'s regular crew had commented on the fact that with the uniform on, Tre was difficult to distinguish from Signum at a distance or in peripheral vision. Frontally anyways; the ponytail made it easy to pick out Signum from behind.

"Combat Cyborg." Tre replied, taking a seat.

That got Lanser to raise her head. "The last one wore black."

"The last one had decided what she wanted to do with her life." Tre replied. It might even be true; Sette's thought processes were so radically different from Tre's own that Tre had never really pretended to entirely understand them. The recent episode with Sette apparently having found emotions only reinforced that.

"It wasn't a bad idea at the time." Lanser said. "Doesn't seem too smart now."

"Your Team?" It felt decidedly strange to Tre, talking to someone as laconic as she was. It also provided her a good clue to how frustrating it might be to others.

"Not really. The destruction or near-destruction of a Mage Team is not a normal event in peacetime. But we are not at peace anymore. I am the first. I will not be the last." Lanser replied, in the same tired tone, but with a tinge of fear this time.

"Not the first. Something being normal and something not happening are different things. Wouldn't have been the last either." Tre pointed out.

"Didn't think of that." Lanser admitted. "Still going to be a lot more of us, though."

The remainder of their three hours together was spent in a silence neither companionable nor hostile. It simply was.

After that, time to finally see the admiral. Tre noted the swirling colors of the Dimensional Sea outside the windows. _Circe_ had finally jumped away from Earth, en route back to Bureau Headquarters.

"Tre." Chrono held out a hand, two fingers extended and holding a Bureau passport/ID card. "Your help was invaluable and much appreciated."

Tre examined the ID card. It listed her name as "Tre Scaligetti", something which she had requested. Someone had to carry Father's name, make it worth using again. It also listed her status as "Citizen", which was not correct for someone who had been convicted of a crime and released, much less held aboard an Orbital Penal Complex even briefly. Tre had been on one for nearly a year and a half. "This doesn't say that I was ever a criminal."

"No, it does not. In light of your performance and the fact that your loyalty was proved beyond any reasonable doubt, I arranged to have your and Uno's parole agreements altered." Chrono replied, with a faint smile. "Tre Scaligetti, you are truly free to go."


	15. Last Call Out

This chapter was totally not intended. It just sort of happened when I wasn't…well okay I was typing, so I was looking, but you get the idea. For the curious, the Shamal in my head is listening to the Main Theme from _Letters From Iwo Jima_. The Shamal in the story, however, has probably never seen _Letters_, so it's just something in the same mode.

**Last Call-Out  
**It was attack time.

The pattern was regular, and if not well-established yet thankfully. The call came in like clockwork, something Vita had actually set a watch by once already. Hayate's command was clustered around the main teleport hub in Ground Forces HQ. They each handled the stress differently.

Signum simply waited, with the calm millenia in forming and the sure knowledge that she could beat anything the universe threw at her. Combat held no more mysteries for her, no more surprises, and she knew that she was the best there was. No single opponent in the universe was her match in close combat, and she knew it. All she had to do was get close enough to reach them with Levantine, and everything else would be easy.

Vita fretted. She paced. Vita hated all this. That hate came out in her actions in combat; never one to hold back anyways, she seemed to descend into a berserker rage when encountering her twin now. It hadn't always been that way; the first couple of times, Vita had treated her twin with a cautious respect that Hayate had never seen from Vita before. It hadn't lasted, and Vita's anger had grown in direct proportion to the death toll. By the fourth attack only a direct order from Hayate had prevented Vita from seeking out her clone and spattering their head across a wall. By the fifth, Hayate knew better than to try giving Vita an order the youngest Wolkenritter would not obey.

Shamal tried to match Signum's calm, but she fidgeted once every few minutes, putting the lie to it. Shamal abhorred seeing people die, or those who had died. Empathy was her strength, what made her tick, but it came at significant costs. In truth, only as a Wolkenritter could Shamal have survived this sort of intensive combat. She would have been hospitalized with the worst case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder anyone had ever seen by now…if she was capable of suffering PTSD. But the Book of the Night Sky had been smarter than that; the Wolkenritter couldn't suffer any kind of mental disorder. It was a small mercy in a life that had offered many large cruelities.

Zafira appeared to nap in his wolf form. In the this time, before the battle, he remained totally closed. He might actually be napping; his mental link to the others was closed off, which happened when they slept. But he might simply have closed it off, to keep his own thoughts and worries to himself. That would be like him. Hayate had spent more than ten years with Zafira, and she still didn't know what if anything the wolf felt before action.

Agito and Rein did their own thing. Agito preferred to UNISON before trouble, so she was already with Signum, making for a rather impressive display to just be standing around. Rein regarded that as evidence of Agito's neurotic need to feel she was not alone, and preferred to UNISON on site. Rein was reviewing recent reports and paying special attention to the information coming out of the Navy's disassembling of that Belkan cruiser.

Fate had a slight tremor in her left hand. First signs of PTSD, Shamal had assessed worriedly. Like Shamal, Fate was strongly capable of empathy. Unlike Shamal, she was not proof against what that could cost her. Hayate had pulled Fate from the active roster and explained in no uncertain terms the Enforcer could not participate in this mission. If Fate kept fighting, kept seeing the horrific butchery the Other-Wolkenritter inflicted, then there was a very good chance the Enforcer would crack under the strain and never recover. Fate was not taking the order well. Combat fatigue is in many ways the ultimate humiliation for a fighter, and Fate was still here to offer what moral support she could even if she could not deploy.

Nanoha Takamachi had first approached this assignment with an almost giddy nature. Now, though, she had settled farther into the classical soldier mode than Hayate had ever seen before. There was no fun here, and no glory, and Nanoha had gotten down to the grim business of ensuring the other guy died for his cause before she died for hers. But there was still a certain degree of the giddy to her actions on the field. She _liked _to fight, liked the challenge of it, liked it because it was skill she had mastered, and Nanoha had never been able to entirely contain that like. It wasn't, to Nanoha and a lot of other people, an appropriate response. Still, Nanoha desperately wanted a _why_, some kind of answer or purpose of all this. She could have asked the Wolkenritter and she knew it, but she did not. The truth was Nanoha knew on some level that even if someone explained this all to her, she'd never actually understand why it had to involve slaughtering innocent people. She also knew that was why _she_ was chasing _them_ and not the other way around.

Hayate had deliberately kept Caro from the full knowledge of what was done by the Other-Wolkenritter. Caro was a support mage, there was no point in sending her up close and personal anyways…but also there was no reason to subject someone Caro's age to that kind of thing either. Hayate, like anyone of her rank, had it drilled into her head that if you didn't look after your mages, nobody else was going to. Caro could remain high above the ugliness of it all with Friedrich. She was currently trying to calm the dragon, probably aware the problem was that she herself wasn't calm and the dragon was picking up on it, but not able to help it.

Yuuno had been the surprise. Hayate had thought he would have to be pulled out with, or before, Fate. But he seemed to be handling better than almost anyone who wasn't a Wolkenritter. The truth was Yuuno was simply smarter. He'd know he was new and not mentally equipped for this. He had seen the danger coming before it got to him and taken steps to protect himself. Yuuno knew that at some point he was going to have make a choice between his sanity and his soul, between empathy and the need to separate yourself, but that time wasn't yet. And he made sure to show himself that he was doing good out here, that people were surviving because of him. Right now he was in his pre-battle cleaning mode. Scrub down your brain, clean up all that loose emotion. You bring the baggage and the weight might slow you down enough you can't dodge in time.

Hayate herself took solace in the same thing she always did. To look upon the Wolkenritter in action was to see Death. Death was hers to command, and if you controlled Death, what was there left to fear? The horror of it was nothing compared to ten thousand years of horrors floating in her head from being connected to the Book. Hayate was not totally proof against the darkness, but she was better defended than anyone who was not a Wolkenritter could be. She knew, after all, that it could be worse, and knew it in great detail. She also knew she was keeping that worse back.

And what to make of Uno, the most recent addition to the crew? Uno had paid brief visits to her sisters at both the Saint Church and the Nakajimas, but though she continued to correspond with them, all of them no less with her ability to rapidly write a letter or a report leaving Hayate somewhat jealous, she did not often actually visit them. Uno was coping, if that was actually what she was doing, by trying to further refine her execution of various Wolkenritter-Device-disabling techniques she'd devised. The last set had been simple brute-force viral attacks, effects that could not predicted and certainity that could not be assured. If they weren't fools, and both Hayate and Uno were quite convinced the false Wolkenritter were not fools, they would have installed some basic protections against a repeat occurrence. Hayate wasn't sure the Combat Cyborg was actually doing it as a coping mechanism, however, because that was what Uno seemed to do with _all _her spare time. Maybe Jail had simply hardwired a switch in his cyborgs' brains they could flip, and the jitters went away. Maybe they didn't _have _jitters, that'd be like Jail to want to remove that kind of response to stress.

Hayate scolded herself for trying to come up with reasons to get jealous. Uno was going to be a big help, and she knew it. When somebody wrote the story of this unit for a book or something, people would single Uno joining it out probably more than any other factor as key to ultimate victory. Assuming they won, of course.

They'd win. Hayate was sure of it.

The teleporter started to power up before the man rushed into the room with the news. Most of them were already moving before he got the door open. They had practice at this, after all.

* * *

Post-mission detox was different.

Signum liked a little quiet after a mission. Somewhere to sit down and take stock, consider what had happened and draw any useful lessons or information from it. Unlike normal, Signum had also stolen Uno away to bounce ideas off of. Hayate got the distinct impression it wasn't that Signum simply wanted the best mind in the unit for that however, but that it was also for Uno's benefit; that Signum believed the act of analysis helped the cyborg cope.

Hayate wouldn't bet against that. One thing she had learned quickly was that you did not lie to her knights; you did not even try. They were keen students of human nature, having far too much practice at it. Being able to read one's opponent was a useful skill to someone who fought them face-to-face. Signum, Vita, or Zafira could have all made an excellent living working for the Bureau's behavioral sciences group. Shamal could too, but would never have stayed in such a position of her own volition.

Fate was with Nanoha, and Vivio too. The tremor was gone from her left hand; it only showed up under stress. Another week or two off-duty and Hayate would put her back on the active roster. Fate was just a normal mother now, young, happy, in love with her daughter and her partner. Nanoha was just the same. A pair in many ways.

It made Hayate hurt a little to see, but she had her knights, her own children. Besides, she could always have her revenge when they needed advice on how to handle Vivio dating. Hayate could just smile and say "Oh, I don't really know, my kids were all pretty big by then," and snicker into her hand. It'd be fun. And by then she would have found someone to spend time with herself.

You don't make it through spending your early childhood partially paralyzed without a fundamentally positive outlook.

Vita elbowed Hayate in the waist, since she wasn't tall enough for the ribs. "Don't stare, it's not polite." It was a good operation. You could define good and bad by if Vita was making jokes, Hayate had learned. If Vita made jokes, there would be no nightmares. It was an oddly hard-and-fast rule in what should have been a shadowrealm of shifting variables, but Hayate was grateful for it. If it had been a bad operation…Vita would be doing a lot of glaring, and possibly break a piece of furniture. Vita tried, honestly, not to break the furniture, but her anger needed voice and it was better to break something then to start screaming at someone.

Shamal had her eyes closed and a pair of rather large and high-quality sound-canceling headphones on. One of the first things the Knight of the Lake had done after being convinced of Hayate's not-insane nature had been to go out and buy herself an MP3 player. Hayate wasn't sure what _exactly _Shamal actually listened to after a battle, the only time Shamal seemed to appreciate music. She'd heard some of it once; relatively slow paced piano with the barest of string accompaniment, conveying a deep sadness. It partially replaced the piano notes with horn and added drumrolls to give it a martial air later on. Somehow, Hayate was not sure quite how, the music seemed to act on Shamal the way a dose of tranquilizers might on someone else. It drained away the tension and the adrenaline, left her calm and lucid again.

Zafira was still in his human form, the one he preferred to fight in. He was chatting with Otto, relaxed. Like Signum, the wolf just flipped a switch. No pre-battle shakes, no post-battle shakes, nothing. He was in combat, he was not in combat, no noticeable transition state. Hayate had no idea how Otto had gotten time off her Saint Church duties to come here, particularly with Schach as a mentor. Perhaps a threat to quit.

Yuuno was fiddling with a holowindow, probably chatting with Shari. He had, under pressure from Hayate and more innocent questioning from Caro, folded and commissioned a Device for himself. It was supposed to be a simple Storage Device, a number-cruncher to take some of the load off Yuuno's own brain in his castings. Knowing Shari, Hayate doubted that would be what he got at all. Maybe Hayate could arrange for…no. Shari was a nice girl but Hayate recalled something Shari had once said about technical manuals being like porn. Yuuno was far too normal for her.

"Colonel?" Caro asked. The dragon summoner didn't seem to do her calm-down and power-down routine in public. She stayed keyed up, jumpy, at least until someone ordered her to go to bed or be sedated. Hayate thought about just saying it now rather than around lights-out.

"Yes, Caro?" Hayate replied.

"Would you happen to know why Uno just kissed Lieutenant Scrya on the cheek?" Caro asked innocently. "It doesn't seem very like her…" And maybe Caro had a mischievous sparkle in her eye, but Hayate doubted it.

Hayate's eyes widened. _Signum, did you set this up? _she demanded, looking over. Uno seemed composed, calm, and wasn't even actually walking away from Yuuno. Her course was more of a parallel, as if she'd walked by. And contrary to everything Hayate would have expected, Yuuno simply reached up and idly brushed a hand against his cheek, then glared at the holowindow and pulled Shari back on-point.

He didn't even blush or stutter. Hayate felt cheated, especially since Signum hadn't set it up. Since when did Ferret-boy… She drew a blank on attempting to properly describe it. Confidence? Control? Both?

_He's the head of the Infinite Library. It is a position of some importance. _Zafira's telepathy, controlled warmth and very amused with his mistress. _You grew up, Nanoha and Fate grew up, Chrono grew up, did you believe he would somehow be exempted? Did you honestly think "wacky hijinks ensue" was ever a reasonable option?_

Hayate glared at the wolf. _Spoil my fun then. _The worst thing was he was so very right. Yuuno wasn't the embarrassed ten-year-old anymore, he was a professional and actually rather powerful man. "If I had to guess, Caro, it's because Lieutenant Scrya was the one looking after her." Uno might be able to hack your Device and make it explode, after all, but there wasn't much to keep you from wringing her neck once that happened. Someone had to take care of her.

Hayate heard giggling and turned her head again to find Zafira had lifted Otto onto his shoulders, _one-handed _no less. Showing off a little that he wasn't quite normal? Maybe there was something serious there after all, the Wolkenritter usually shied from openly displaying their superhuman abilities. It was yet another case of force of habit built up pre-Hayate. During Old Belka if anyone identified them as Wolkenritter, then the best case was that the military would invade. The worst case involved carpet-bombing the planet with neutron warheads.

Well that was over. They could be themselves now, just be normal Zafira, Shamal, Vita and Signum, and if it took them a good long time to find their way into that role, Hayate would stay with them every step of the way.

Over in the corner, Signum quietly shook her head and marveled at the resilence and faith of her mistress.


	16. Out In The Open

**Out In The Open  
**Signum did not often seek the company of others on her after-hours time, preferring family. Today, however, family had scattered to the four winds in the early evening. Hayate still tied up in briefings and meetings, Zafira with Otto, Shamal and Vita deciding to go out for dinner. Rather than simply lounge around the house with Agito, Signum had gone out as well.

She had fought too long to ever truly relax outside the company of other warriors. In times like these, Signum visited a small restaurant and bar, a place she was not sure was actually named. It existed literally in the shadow of Ground Forces HQ, during these hours as the sun set. It was a mages' establishment, run by a scarred man in a Ground Forces uniform styled like the original version, now at least two uniform changes out of date. The requirement to be seated was that you be in uniform…and that you be a soldier, not a cop. In simplest terms, that you have killed someone in combat.

It wasn't an establishment of hardened killers, though a couple could usually be found. Signum herself probably counted as one. In many ways, it was a place to mourn, to learn to cope. As much a support group and psychiatric facility as a bar. Here, you were not strange and hideous for having taken a life. Here you were normal. Here you could talk about it, and people would understand. Here you could find peace in the company of those who would not judge you somehow deficient for what had been forced upon you. That was why Signum liked it here. Brotherhood, or something like it.

Still, even here, nobody was willing to argue against her bringing Agito along. Even if she hadn't been easily recognizable by her hair, the hovering Unison Device and her height would have easily marked out who she was. She ate her dinner, Agito had a few fries because then were conveniently sized for the Unison Device.

There was a holo running, one of the few places of this sort that didn't show sports. "As of today, the Time-Space Administrative Bureau, in response to repeated unprovoked attacks on Bureau ships and personnel, has declared war on New Belka." They weren't really _new_, they called themselves simply Belka, but what was left of the real Belka had been absorbed wholesale into the Bureau. Signum had sat in on the briefings that had included autopsy and genetic sequencing of the dead from the Belkan War Cruiser that Chrono's people had captured, and heard the conclusion. They weren't Belkan at all, not ethnically. They just pretended to be.

There was a murmured "That's it, then," somewhere to her left. A shifting in seats was about the only reaction.

_They don't really understand. _Agito's telepathy was unmistakable. It simmered, a heat that could warm or burn without provocation; something to be cautious around. _No one ever really understands war until they see it._

_I think_, Signum replied, _that they know that. They didn't understand death once, too. But they have also learned there is nothing to be gained in trying to understand it without experiencing it. _The concept that there is wisdom in being aware of your ignorance had been one of the key elements of Belkan philosophy.

The Rogue Wolkenritter hunt wasn't yet officially over, but the Bureau had sent a stripped-down cruiser with an Arc-En-Ciel to find the location they were teleporting from and destroy it. Reports had just come back the mission had been a success, no details available at Signum's level of clearance though. The Bureau was warming up to the concept of the war whether it wanted to or not, beginning to enforce usual military secrecy measures. Signum expected shortly that the Dream Team, as they called themselves, would be broken up to return to their respective services. Nanoha's training post was needed more than ever, the Navy wanted Fate back to lead a Mage Team or take a training post of her own.

As for herself, Signum saw a likely training slot in her future as well. After all, who else practiced the style Bureau troops would need to learn to fight?

* * *

"Sir." Samuel offered a salute to Chrono Harlaown and it was returned. He'd spent the last month watching Chrono fiddle with his team roster, replacing the dead and the still-listed-as-missing Simo Fiat.

It wasn't always easy to sleep at night. He didn't have nightmares, at least not ones he remembered on waking. D section, Molders and Citronen had died out of sight, without notice. They'd been part of Chrono's push to the engine room and been cut off when they made a mistake. Fourteen years in service to the Bureau already, and not quite yet twenty-seven, Samuel was familiar with the fact that random chance could reach out and end your life very easily when you played in the A-rank league. This wasn't his first Cause of Death: Bad Luck for a teammate. He knew how to cope with that sort of thing by now.

But Ricard Heinrich, sectionmate, the man who'd watched Samuel's back for the last three months, had been there when Samuel turned his back to stop two Belkans making a charge from a sideroom, and when Samuel had turned around again, Heinrich was dead. It was the speed of it that made it so hard to accept. Steelheart had logged the whole action as taking less than ten seconds. You shouldn't be able to die in less than ten seconds…no, scratch that, he'd seen people die much quicker. But you shouldn't be able to die within ten seconds without being _noticed_ by someone who could have turned around, reached out, and touched you with a fully extended arm.

And he'd never seen a team gutted like this before. There was that time 13 years ago, on the high-tech hellhole of a Non-Administrated World called Regia, where the first team he'd been part of had gotten shot up pretty badly by the locals. It had been ugly, but there had been only two fatalities. Two by his reckoning anyways. The Bureau didn't quite consider familars _alive _since they failed to meet the usual definitions of it. They still had rights, citizenship, could join the military and rise in rank, but they didn't reproduce or grow in any normal sense. Lani would have known how to cope with this, he thought. It was inconceivable to him that the familiar wouldn't. She had been the heart and soul of Team 22.

"Commander. Sit, please." Chrono added a sit-down gesture for emphasis. He'd made his apologies about what had happened to Samuel's team before now. He had yet, however, to explain why he'd completely hijacked the responsibility of rebuilding Team 70. Chrono _could_ do that of course, as Admiral he could dictate nearly anything he pleased, but it was a right not normally exercised. It was better to let the team commander do a reasonable amount of the work, more likely to result in an smoothly-functioning whole. "You must have questions."

"Of course, sir." The tone suggested something more along the lines of _what the hell are you doing with my people_ had been meant, but that Samuel was too disciplined to say it.

Chrono leaned forward on his desk. He didn't actually much like his desk, and wherever possible he did his work, _all_ his work, even routine paper-pushing, on the flag bridge of a warship. That it was frequently in port while he was doing it wasn't really important to him; he preferred the way a ship's bridge _felt_. But his office was useful for privacy on occasion. "I need a particular team for a particular task. Two of them, actually. For the first embassy guard deployments the Bureau has made in a long time."

The Bureau did not maintain formal diplomatic relations with many Non-Administrated Worlds. It was easier and safer for all concerned that way; if there were problems, the Bureau could simply deploy and deal with them. No fuss, no nonsense, no danger that the locals won't realize the problem is beyond them before it gets beyond controlling and everyone ends up dying. It didn't always make them liked on worlds that actually knew they existed, but in general the Bureau simply told them "this is our mess, we're cleaning it up, we offer good compensation if some of your stuff is broken along the way." The fact that such compensation was usually unnecessary thanks to barrier spells helped, and most worlds eventually accepted it even if they didn't really like it. That just left one question. "Where, sir?"

"Earth. The other team will be going to Luthien."

Samuel's jaw dropped. "Sir…"

"I know, Commander. The Bureau has never made formal contact with either and suppressed all incidents where they might have stumbled onto our operations. They're too fragmented, the consequences of revealing ourselves unpredictable but likely to be bad. We will scare them, and they have every right to be frightened." Chrono sighed. "But they are already frightened. There was no way to hide the battle in orbit, and tensions there are escalating there between the countries. If we reveal what happened, we might be able to calm them. The Bureau did not ever want to do this, Commander, but the war is going to make the Bureau do a lot of things it doesn't want to."

"Sir." Samuel replied. It took him a moment. "And my task is to keep it from blowing up in our faces?"

"I have faith in your ability to lead, Commander." Chrono said. "Your team made it to the bridge of that ship, and no else even came close. But you will need exceptional people to lead if you want to come out the other end of this. That is why I'm granting you command of both the Navy's active Combat Cyborgs and some of the best people I can find."

Both of the Navy's Combat Cyborgs. That meant his last slot, which had been held open, would go to…probably Tre. Uno had commented on liking Ground Forces uniform, and gone to work for Hayate Yagami straight away after all. The others were all currently employed as far as he knew. "Sir, if they realize what the Combat Cyborgs are…"

"Then they will know that we can show mercy to our enemies." Chrono replied.

Samuel nodded and looked as though he'd tasted something rather bitter. "New York? United Nations?"

"Where else?" Chrono had to crash-course in Earth's politics and culture, but Samuel was the son of someone born there, and he had retained an interest. "We can't offer them much, except a promise to help and the means to call us if they need it. The Council isn't convinced they could contribute meaningfully."

Samuel refrained from commenting, but knew the score as most active-duty mages did. Earth, and its slightly more advanced counterpart on the other side of Bureau space, Luthien, were both as heavily populated as any Bureau world and actually more highly industrialized. Pure manpower, and a slight nudge to their weapons, and the Bureau could have had powerful allies to help with the heavy lifting on the ground. A slightly larger nudge, and the Bureau supplying some Dimensional Sea drives, and they could have meaningfully contributed to the war in space.

But convincing the Bureau Council, particularly the larger civilian-inclusive version, to release that kind of technology would be difficult at best. "Sir. Am I to assume that I'm getting Tre back?"

* * *

Hayate sat down. "Signum?"

The senior knight looked up from where she was reading a book. A rather good book in her opinion, well-researched and not afraid to point the fingers at organizational problems rather than individual people. Sometimes the hard questions involved asking "why" rather than "who". "Yes?" Signum closed the question off sharply, biting back the "mistress" still after all these years.

"What do you know about Belka and genetic modifications?" Hayate asked.

Signum blinked. It was an odd question but one that was at least somewhat fair. Signum had been with Belka since what amounted to Belkan prehistory, a dark shadow to whatever light the empire had cast. "Like the Bureau, they regarded prenatal genetic therapy as a valuable tool, but also something of the lesser evil. Unlike the Bureau enhancement was not strictly outlawed, but it was placed under heavy restriction. Cloning was outlawed. Belka never made the leap to true Artificial Mages but they were able to build enhanced ones. The therapy took years and few outside the Royal Family or its guards had access to it. Yuuno Scrya would know more about non-mage-related types of genetics."

"Not a concern. Well, not yet. So widescale post-birth genetic modification was not practiced." Hayate seemed oddly insistant on that point.

"No, it was not." Signum agreed. She gently probed Hayate via the mental link, wondering what this was about, but Hayate had walled off all relevant information in her mind.

Sometimes, however, it's not what is said. Sometimes, it's what isn't said. Like the fact the action reports from the boarding of the New Belkan ship _Invincible _were also walled off. They had, Signum recalled, made the claim that the ship's entire crew had showed some level of magical aptitude if given a chance. Most of them were no better than C or D ranks however. And if Hayate was asking about genetic modification…

Signum considered for all of three seconds. The Bureau had experience with Artificial Mages. For that matter, so did she; she was the sparring partner and good friend of one and had nominally commanded another. To her knowledge, the Bureau had never encountered an Artificial Mage ranked so low.

But it had also never encountered so many of them. What did it require to create an Artificial Mage? Signum didn't know, the Bureau kept that secret for obvious reasons. But it was not a simple undertaking. Autospy results on the crew of the _Invincible_, or at least those of them that could be when it was all said and done, had placed them all in their twenties. No one younger than nineteen. The Bureau recruited seven years younger and sent to active duty six years younger, sometimes more in exceptional cases.

At nineteen, any of the Bureau's own Artificial Mages would be at least A-rank. Probably better than a flat A too. If you could make really good mages, or mediocre ones... Why? Was it harder?

Magical aptitude is partially genetic. The Linker Core is a bodily organ, though like the appendix, it serves no real purpose in day-to-day functioning and one can do without. One is born with the Linker Core and can do magic, or one is born without and cannot. Mage rank, or at least final, lifelong maximum mage rank, is also genetic, though most mages end up growing into it. But a Linker Core has to be woken first, has to have some kind of power put into it before it will start generating.

Wolkenritter never forget, but Signum had never delved into that sort of thing in the first place. So Signum needed a genetics expert. Fortunately, she knew one, as well as an expert in just about every other field of medicine. _Shamal._

_Artificial Mages? Signum you know I can't tell you how they work._ Shamal sent back. She didn't appreciate keeping secrets, but she did appreciate doctor-patient confidentiality. She also appreciated not spreading around information that must inevitably result in children being created for the sole purpose of becoming weapons.

_I do not need that. I need your genetics knowledge. _Signum responded to the suggestion she would ask classified information of Shamal knowingly as if insulted. _Is there any appreciable length or other difference that suggests difficulty in replicating between C or D rank sequencing and A rank sequencing in genetics?_

Guarded reply. _No. Same length. Different sequencing but there's nothing exotic about it. If you have one you could fumble your way to the other in…maybe a year or two? Less if you put real resources into it._

Then there is no reason. A mystery…

"Job security." Hayate muttered. "We apparently have it."

Signum looked up and _hmm_'d at her, surprising even the knight. It was the first time Signum had ever responded to anything Hayate had said in so casual a fashion.

Hayate responded after a moment of surprise. "They have a lot of Wolkenritter. Maybe more than fifty complete sets total. And they reincarnate, so we get to the fight them all multiple times. Job security, Signum, is very overrated."

_Fifty _of her. Fifty totally psychotic versions of herself from the Bad Old Days, controlled only by the threat of being locked back up in their own Book-equivalent. Signum felt physically ill. "Very overrated."

It was at that point the Blazing General realized that it also meant the New Belkans had fifty totally psychotic versions of _Reinforce_. It was just as well Signum hadn't eaten recently, because she _did_ try to throw up.

* * *

Uno took a deep breath. She had been going over the logs of the _Invincible_, the computers, with a fine-toothed comb ever since Chrono called her back for it. She had worked with Shari and every other expert on magical technology the Bureau could find to drain every last bit of data from the cruiser's computers, from the design of its systems, from the coding that made its weapons function, everything. She was reasonably sure she could have approximated the thought processes of the ship's designers, she knew it that well now.

Uno can also approximate, or more accurately perfectly copy, the thought process of the Doctor, of Quattro, even of the late Due. It was one of the foremost indicators, even to Uno herself, that she is not normal and perhaps not perfectly sane. Or maybe she's too sane. Maybe the Doctor's devotion to an utterly rational universe that lives in her is the problem. Bei had taught her the value of emotion in their brief time together; the value of fear. That useless biological response; priceless too. Adrenaline. Faster, faster thought, faster reaction. Stronger. Emotions were valuable, and the ability to express fear could seperate her as readily from Father as could denying all emotion.

Uno would admit it to no one, but she was afraid of herself. She is Jail's clone and she knows it. How close is she to what he was? There is no way to know, and she is not sure she would realize if she wandered over the edge of the abyss. It is not easy to see the shape of something from inside it.

Still, she's not as crazy as they are. In the computers she had found a partial history. Not a full one, because at the last second _Invincible_'s crew had realized they were doomed and tried to wipe the computers. They didn't appear to have a concept of peace. They would expand and expand and expand and they would always take each world by force. They would oppress and control simply so they can cause a rebellion to put down. Warriors need wars after all. So simply breathtakingly logical, and so utterly perfectly insane. Old Belka, even they had maintained that warriors existed to preserve society from those who would destroy it. The Bureau taught its people that they did not sign on to fight; they signed on to be ready to fight if it was needed. But then, Belka had at least made the transition from the concept of warrior to that of soldier, and soldiers were all the Bureau ever called its people.

A society without purpose besides war, without concept of peace. Even their art, their music, only war. They would have to fought, destroyed, to stop them. They knew of no other way to stop besides their own destruction.

Father would have been fascinated by them. He would have wanted to figure out how such a thing could ever come about. It was unnatural, a state of constant conflict or the seeking thereof. Even predators do not hunt when they are not hungry. Perhaps a form of societal insanity. Uno just wanted to keep them from ruining the life she was trying to build.

Still, Uno smiled.

It must be _incredibly_ boring.

With that thought to calm her, she started to brief the TSAB Council on what she had learned.


	17. Life As You Know It

Okay people, let's play spot the Signum mythology gag! And spot the EV Nova reference(s)!

**Life As You Know It**  
The Dream Team had yet to be broken up. The threat of attack without warning on Bureau worlds might be over. It might not be. The Bureau Council appeared to be taking a wait-and-see approach, or possibly preserving them for fighting Rogue Wolkenritter in a more set-piece battle.

The training schedule had to be relaxed; with no idea when they'd be called on again, they couldn't spend long periods away from a teleport hub. So the training was mostly personal, one on one. It was an off cycle now, and Signum sat with Uno.

It would not be fair to say she liked the cyborg. The number of people Signum actually _liked_ was pretty small. The number of people she _appreciated_ was a different matter. Uno had made things much easier. Even a triple set of Rogue Wolkenritter had been cut down to size very nicely thanks to Uno's intervention. Without a weapon, a Belkan-style mage was nearly helpless.

"_Se Ytruck Gjinchar_." Uno said. "Blade in the night. _Va Frenchek_, steel death. I know many names for you, Signum. Father was quite fascinated by your history." Uno pretended Signum didn't already know that, and Signum pretended she didn't either.

Signum was not entirely sure _why_ Uno had seen fit to erase the lapse in Jail's base, and a bit suspicious of generosity from a Combat Cyborg. Some of them had come across as admirably human in Signum's estimation, like Cinque and Tre, but not Uno. She was a clone of Jail, which was pretty prejudicial in and of itself, but Signum liked to think she could get past that sort of thing. Plenty of people had gotten past _her_ history, after all, and Signum genuinely made an effort not to be a hypocritical sort.

"Lamia." Signum frowned heavily at the memories of a verdant hell, a place where you lived from second to second. "Not a pleasant world." Nobody ever conquered Lamia. Not even the Belkan Empire. They just moved in and _survived_ there, and someone from Lamia mastered skills that would be considered advanced commando training merely to survive. Signum had been there once, but it had been the longest struggle in the Wolkenritter's history. Usually, they were on a world for a few months, maybe a year at most, before either the Book was completed or someone figured it out and military/local equivalents did whatever was necessary to get rid of them. Lamia had been a decade-long struggle, finally ending because the Book consumed their mistress rather than either of the usual ways.

Uno smiled. "The loveless place. The worst duty station in the Bureau. Not so bad, really, in comparison to what we do."

"What we do could become distressingly normal to the Bureau." Signum pointed out.

Uno shook her head. "It cannot. There are not enough of us. The Bureau may have to take steps. Combat Cyborgs. Mass weapons. Something."

"Will it?" Signum asked. Her tone suggested she doubted the Bureau could go that far.

"A struggle for survival. They will wipe out everything the Bureau has built and stands for. Total war is the only reasonable response." Uno replied, with a shrug. "I hope the Bureau will, because it needs to."

* * *

The stay on Earth so far hadn't been terrible, although it probably should have been delayed in Samuel's opinion, giving him at least some time to try and integrate his people. And the place wasn't _that_ terribly different from, say, Cranagan. Even if you did live under a very big microscope. They were, after all, aliens, even if they weren't very alien-looking and some of them were descended from people who lived on this planet. Everything they did was watched and analyzed carefully. And above all, it was imperative not to abuse physics too much or otherwise use magic unless there wasn't another option. They didn't want to scare people.

One of the brilliant things done by the diplomats, or maybe incredibly stupid as it was too early to tell, was upon discovering that Samuel spoke Arabic like a native they had him give interviews to a number of Arabic-language television networks. Samuel was just returning from one such.

"Sentri." Mage Officer 1st Class Kate Sentri was the new Team 70 2IC Chrono had given him. "What's going on?" There were a number of local police types just outside the innermost part of the building they had been given, right about the border where entry was refused to anyone not in Bureau service.

"Tre received an obscene phone call. She broke her phone in response. Locals are looking into the security breach," being able to directly call the aliens was being very tightly controlled by the locals, "and whoever called." A pause. "Sir, is there something I don't know about her that I need to?" _She slammed a phone into a nightstand and reduced the nightstand to matchsticks. _Worry, concern, an underlying playfulness to Sentri's personality though, something he had yet to get used to.

Samuel wasn't sure which problem was worse, but dealt with the one currently in front of him. "You know full well." They operated under the assumption that their residences were somehow recording or otherwise bugged, even if they'd had them swept clean several times and caught a few. It wasn't offensive, not really. It would be irresponsible of the locals not to try. Of course, the locals didn't know about telepathy, and it couldn't be tapped even if they did. _Combat Cyborg, remember?_

_Ah. Sorry sir, I guess I haven't internalized it very well._ Contrition, but still the playfulness he had noted before. Maybe this was what talking telepathically to Nanoha Takamachi was like. That thought was good for a shudder; Chrono stuck his team with a mini-Nanoha and a couple of Combat Cyborgs? The world would end by Tuesday.

"Tre is?" Samuel asked.

"Courtyard, sir. Believe she's not pleased with her response." It was currently raining, so that somewhat surprised him.

It had been a big risk to try an integrate into an active-duty Mage Team someone who hadn't even completed the two-month accelerated training course that Sette had stomped all over, and trying to integrate someone directly from that was a risk in itself. Samuel had gone so far as to describe it to Chrono as "stupid" and he was afraid Tre was in the process of proving him right. She had managed to come off, via a perfect memory and concentration on observing the formalities, as no more than slightly green so far.

But anyone who had completed a proper Mage Basic would regard an obscene phonecall as incredibly silly and not worthy of their contempt, much less their anger. They would have at least been screamed at by professionals, who screamed at you for the express person of getting your tendency to react to having insults screamed at you out of your system.

It was indeed still raining. "Veteran Mage Specialist." Chrono had pulled strings to get that rank for Tre, strings Samuel had been surprised existed. Veterancy usually required two years service, or the more ugly way of nearly getting killed in the process of completing the mission. Sette had been sitting over in a corner, watching, and now moved back inside. The two were no longer a paired team. Samuel had been willing to rearrange things so they were, and Tre had wanted to, but Sette had refused. The younger Combat Cyborg appeared to believe they would both best learn what was required of them by working with someone else. But Sette and Tre had a tendency to shadow one another when not formally deployed. Guilt from the younger cyborg? Impossible to say. Sette was as unreadable as ever.

"Commander." Tre replied, saluting and having it returned. "I apologize for my behavior. It was unacceptable and won't happen again."

"That's good." He gave the Combat Cyborg a "but" look. "However, we need to talk." A quick "follow me" gesture to get started on a circuit of the courtyard. Probably not enough to screw with any listening gear, but enough to make it seem like the effort was being made; playing mind games with the watchers, if there were watchers. Tre grimaced in reply and matched his pace. "I know you've been hit on before. Simo, at the least."

Tre nodded slowly. Both of them ignored the pouring rain washing over their Barrier Jackets; droplets moving just fast enough to activate the Jackets' defensive properties and wash over the outside rather than soak them. Occasionally one drop was just below the activation threshold and landed properly. "Simo was safer."

"Nobody here can hurt you." Samuel said softly. "Keep that in mind." Even without her new Barrier Jacket, Tre's cybernetics provided a great deal of protection. Her vital organs were behind a centimeter of advanced titanium alloy, her joints motorized to back up and supplement bio-engineered muscles that probably counted as a form of armor themselves. Samuel also had a strong suspicion, formed from having tried kicking her in inconvenient spots during a number of sparring matches, that Tre could shut off or at least limit her ability to perceive pain.

"Simo was part of it. I was trying to think of people who could have ever said that sort of thing to me...did you know, just before our raid on Jail's base, he asked if I would take him to the victory party?" Tre replied, soft sadness in her tone that she would not allow to leak out into her posture or pace. "I said yes, because I wanted to see his expression. Death is quite apt at making you feel like an awful person."

"That explains something." Samuel replied, in the same soft volume, but not the same tone. His sadness was a distant one, held at arm's length. It couldn't be allowed closer, not where someone might see him. "Right before he...I guess died, nobody's sure still, he contacted me telepathically. 'Tell Tre I'm sorry about the dance.' He was in immense pain when he sent it. I thought he must have been delirious."

Tre shook her head and changed the subject. She had just barely managed to convince herself she might not be some kind of killing machine monster, and too much contemplation made it hard to sustain that view. "Would you believe this is my first experience with rain?"

A raised eyebrow, and a look in his eyes that suggested he wasn't done with that earlier discussion. "I didn't have my first experience with rain until I was thirteen, but I grew up on Starburst. Space station, controlled environment. What's your excuse?"

Tre huddled under her new black longcoat. She wasn't used to being questioned on her past. "I'm not sure. Father intended us as infiltrators, of course, so one might think rain would be our natural environment, limiting visibility. But we operated in very small groups, rarely more than one or two. I think Father had visions of one of us slipping in the middle of a fight and being captured because we couldn't get back up again fast enough. If it was expected to rain, we rescheduled." She belatedly added a "Sir." after a moment.

Somehow, that was amusing that Jail could be so basically irrational. Back to the problem at hand. "Tre, I need to know if this is going to be a big problem for you. Straight answer." _You can't have these kind of outbursts, Tre. If our hosts figure out what you are, it would be __**very**__ awkward._

"It will not." Tre said, but she did not sound sound as assured as he would have liked. She wasn't as sure as everyone else that Earth and transhumanism absolutely didn't mix, but she remembered as well as anyone the religious fanatics screaming "God hates fag aliens" outside the UN at her. If they freaked out about someone so similar to them...well, when they discovered she _wasn't_ similar, they would go absolutely guano-eating insane.

"Sir." It was Carolyn. She didn't look much worse for the wear, despite her near-death aboard the _Invincible_. A small scar beneath her left ear was the only mark she bore from the experience that Tre had seen, though the Combat Cyborg suspected the psychological scars might be more impressive. Most people, even in the Bureau, didn't come close to dying before their seventeenth birthday. But Carolyn had been certified as fit for duty, and Tre understood that Samuel had fought tooth and nail to keep her on the team as Chrono rebuilt it. "We have a problem. They need you upstairs."

Tre was on his heels as he left. She might not be trained, not really, but it was easy to take the backup role. She just had to assume the way Sette would have responded if she were leading was correct.

"Commander, I need your input on this."

"Ready and waiting, ma'am." The Bureau didn't bother with protocol ranks, but Samuel was fairly sure the woman who was ambassador had also once served with Ground Forces from her mannerisms. In front of her, on a large videoconference splitscreen, were a number of faces he recognized. Presidents, Russian, American, a few others. They wanted him to comment on something that could...

_Not like we haven't decided the fate of planets before._ Bei read him well. Not for the first time, Samuel wished Chrono had talked Bei into an officer's commission before this mission. _This is just a slightly different method. _The senior NCO was entitled to a level of informality, based on the fact he had known Samuel from before Samuel was an officer. Or even gotten his Veterancy yet.

"Commander." Sankt Kaiser, he still had to talk directly to someone who controlled enough firepower to devastate continents. At least a battleship captain only did it a couple of square kilometers at a time...

"Sirs. If my presence is needed, I take it there is a military problem." Samuel said. Tre admired his poise and quick thinking, happily unaware of the inner turmoil.

"The information you have given us regarding the capabilities of your forces, and those of your enemies, is rather incredible. We need to know how accurate is." Brit, from the accent.

"Sirs, if you want to send in one of the police outside and have him empty his service weapon at my chest to prove the point, I volunteer to stand here and take it so you will believe us. I will gladly trust my life to that information."

"Then we need alternatives. If anti-tank weaponry is necessary as you say, this is too impractical. We have other, non-conventional weapons we can employ and we need to know if they will be effective. And we need to know what it would take to down one of your starships, as there is currently what you identify as a Belkan War Cruiser holding near the Moon. We are trying to communicate with them, but if they do not listen we need options."

Samuel kept his face impassive. He counted obvious horror on that of Tre, a slight eye-widening on Sette's that could mean nearly anything, and disgust on Bei's and several of the other delegation members. But the ambassador kept her cool, and at least she and him were the only ones visible.

Tre watched him trade a glance with the ambassador. Perhaps telepathic communication as well. "Biological warfare has too long a lead time to be a practical battlefield weapon, and they can probably cure most such infections the moment symptoms present. Chemical weapons may work, at least as aerosols rather than contact weapons, something they breathe in. Flame weapons will work, either by eating local oxygen since they need to breathe, or breathing in flame and searing the lungs. You already know that mages will not stand up to nuclear blasts. Nothing does." It was a struggle to keep his voice dispassionate. He was telling them to use things that even Earth considered far too terrible a weapon. "A starship will require a massive nuclear strike. Three hundred megatons would have to make contact with the ship at minimum. We can do it with less, but our weapons focus better to deliver all their energy to the target. They have formidable point defense, so you will need to launch as much as a third or half again as you want to actually hit."

Samuel wondered if he'd be able to sleep ever again after saying all this. Mage Teams looked over all sorts of abysses of human depravity, and the Navy tried hard to prepare people to deal with that sort of thing. But it didn't translate to this. This was organized, professional, wrapped in procedure and careful thought, and every bit as horrifying in spite of it.

* * *

Signum was off alone tonight. There was nothing unusual about that. But there was in the fact that she was feeling lonely.

They could all feel it. Hayate, Vita, Shamal, Zafira, and even Rein. It was so out of character, so utterly abnormal, that none of them was sure what they could _do_ about it. Loneliness was not something that troubled someone who had did not find being alone unpleasant any more. In an very rare ungenerous mood Hayate might have speculated on the Wolkenritter's tendency to act as loners having to do with their pasts, what they had suffered serving masters and mistresses long on power tripping using whatever unfortunates happened to be nearby and short on compassion or sanity. With a master who hurt people around them because hurting people was just what they did, and the rest of the universe hurting you in the totally correct expectation that you were going to cause a city, continent, or planet-destroying disaster unless killed, being alone sounds awfully nice.

There was also the minor problem that sharing thoughts and feelings automatically as the Wolkenritter did, it was really hard to get lonely in the first place.

It was Agito who made the leap. "Moping doesn't suit you."

Signum looked up sharply. "Moping?"

"Everyone downstairs would probably use the term 'lonely' but I think moping works better. You are an attractive, successful, powerful woman. If you're lonely it's clearly from lack of effort." Agito shot back, scornful tone to match scornful words.

Signum actually flinched, and the Unison Device realized this was going to be bad. "What?"

Agito softened her tone slightly. "Signum, you're a Wolkenritter. Being restrained by something as insubstantial as doubt is a disgrace to the name. You want company, go out there and find it. You're more than capable of that. Call up somebody you know, something."

Signum shook her head. "Of the people I would consider adequate company, two are married to each other and have a child whom I would never take their time away from, one is downstairs, one I never really knew that well, and three are offworld."

"Nanoha and Fate, Zafira, and no clue on the rest." Agito replied.

Signum sighed. "Vice Granseic. Capable man, can-do attitude. But I just worked with him. We were acquaintances, but we were never really friends. Chrono, who probably has no free time these days anyways. Samuel al-Faddil, whom you are so fond of, is both intelligent and respectful. And Drei, who I know as well as I will ever know anyone. And people I do not know, we both know what the pink ponytail will make them think of Agito. Not me, my twins."

"Defeatism doesn't suit you at all either." Agito was getting a little _angry _now. Signum had completely dismissed her other arguments; Signum didn't need to be friendly, or nice, or even particularly well-loved among the general populace. Signum had her looks, and she had power, and a lot of people would find both those things irresistible.

"Agito, I have made a life of the maxim 'Endure, and in enduring grow strong.' I will endure this too." Signum replied.

The UNISON Device threw up her hands and left the room rather than dissolve into an angry diatribe that probably would have ended with the heaviest weapon in her arsenal, comparing someone to Rein. On the stairs she encountered Vita, who took one look at the simmering anger on Agito's face and pronounced the situation. "Boob Monster's not going to get her act together."

"Do you _want_ me to set off something in your face, using that name?" Agito demanded. Agito might be angry with Signum, but the Unison Device also respected her immensely. "No, she doesn't have her act together, or she's still operating in Wolkenritter against the world mode, or something equally stupid."

"Not anymore." Hayate said, joining the conversation. "Stand-to orders just came down the line."

* * *

The New Belkans hadn't listened, declaring their intentions to exact vengeance from whoever happened to be handy. They wanted to try and kill the War Cruiser before it made low orbit, but in the end it wasn't practical. They didn't have the weapons to do that, something that probably wouldn't be true a month from now, but today Earth's nuclear arsenal just couldn't reach far enough.

It wasn't a united front. Plenty of people didn't buy the aliens thing at all, though a number of the usual suspects against the UN and the US that hosted it had been partially convinced by Samuel's ability to prove ancestry in Saudi Arabia. Some countries just didn't listen to anyone regardless of its possible truth. But they had managed to get most of the nuclear-armed powers onboard.

Samuel looked over at Tre. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but was not sure if he could describe his own thoughts. Nuclear arms were on the reasons the Bureau placed strict controls on mass weapons. He should be stopping this, somehow, but...

_It's not easy, is it?_ Less of the haunted quality that had marked Tre's telepathy the first time he'd heard it. Calmer, and no longer shaky now that she had some chance to practice. Curiosity, but more than curiosity had driven her to ask. She was concerned for him.

_Is it easy for you?_ Left unsaid, but easily implied, was that he was feeling both responsible and pretty monstrous at the moment. Samuel mentally scolded himself for replying with telepathy. It was a moment of weakness, and he should not have made it so clear he was conflicted. A leader must always be decisive, confidant, to those he lead.

_It is. Remember who I grew up with; the mass weapons taboo exists for cognizant reasons, but if it prevents you from doing what is necessary to protect others it should be discarded. _It really did sound easy for her. A spark of envy, but also some gratitude. Sometimes the leader has to be human too.

"They're hitting the geosynch satellites." Bei observed across the room.

"There goes the neighborhood." Communications satellites were in geosynchronous orbit. "About five minutes until the locals try to clobber them, and pray they don't start landing troops I guess."

Sette looked up. "If they do, sir?" That flat monotone was both reassuring in its steadiness and creepy in its utter lack of human emotion or even human speech patterns.

"Then we find out just how crazy everyone is. Us, them, and Earth." Samuel said. "I told the locals that if they made it easy to find us, we'd probably soak up the first strike of ground troops."

"You did _what?_" Sentri burst out with.

* * *

"The Navy courier ship in the system has a teleporter with maintenance problems, the original relay in the observation post was pulled along with the post when the embassy went in. There's no relay near Earth to get to." Yuuno reported to Hayate, frustrated. He remembered the Takamachi family fondly, Tsukimura and Bannings too. And people were always people. Everyone deserved to be protected from something as horrific as a full scale war prosecuted by mages. "Chrono is scrambling to get a teleporter into the system, and a fleet. We already know they called for any help we can give."

The Wolkenritter were visibly fretful, even Zafira. They'd made friends, knew people. Only Signum remained truly calm, her emotions swallowed up in the void of the cold, machinelike precision with which her mind worked in combat. Zafira paced, but it was a slow, measured pace, not the quick jerky way Vita moved when upset. Still, the mere fact Zafira was pacing spoke volumes. And Hayate knew, finally, that he didn't nap before a battle. He cut himself off from the mental link. And normally, pretended to nap.

Nanoha was glad her family had been pulled off Earth back after the first attack, to make sure Earth didn't do anything stupid to Bureau dependents. After this, they might be able to go back. But a lot of other people she knew might be in trouble now. There was no way to know. Fate was coming this time; she had friends in danger as well.

Hayate glared at the red "not safe to teleport" light above the platform, willing it to change.

* * *

Mass weapons were loud. A mage's attacks were fairly quiet, at least until they hit something. Guns, though, were very loud. The staccato of gunfire echoed in Tre's ears. They were brave, or maybe they didn't realize they didn't have much chance. It was, in theory, possible to take down a C or D ranked mage with sufficient application of small-arms fire. But having twenty guys hit the same mage at once with long bursts just wasn't likely even if you were deliberately trying.

"Sentri, count." Samuel's voice, next to her.

"Half-dozen flight mages, twenty-plus ground mages. If they meant to vaporize our place, they would have already done it." The technical specialist was tapped into the local cops' radio net and various monitoring devices inside the embassy.

Which was about to become a big smoking crater. "Hit-G it." It was an acronym; HITG stood for "hole in the ground", making an offending building go away via beam attacks. It was a crappy way to treat the very nice embassy building they'd been given, but appropriate to the situation since it currently contained quite a few hostile mages.

Tre kept her eyes on the sky. If they had any brains, there would be top cover... She launched vertically, intercepting a flight mage with a punch to the face. Her new Device was a completely different class, neither Inherent Equipment nor Armed or Storage Device. Trying to modify her Inherent Equipment so she had both distance and nonlethal attacks, they had discovered her Inherent Equipment was actually running off a Relic of all things...but they couldn't modify it, a rude shock after the simple nature of bringing Sette's Inherent Equipment into line with Bureau standards. They could only draw on its power by incorporating a second Device.

Invicta was a flat extension, like shinguards and forearm guards for the old IE bracelets. Though nominally an Intelligent Device, its unique nature had caused Shari to call it an Interface Device instead. To her annoyance, someone on the ground could not tell the sheep from the goats; gunfire glanced off her arms and the torso of the mage she was fighting, messing up both her and him from the force of the impacts. But she could recover faster. Her opponent fell from the sky with bad chest wounds.

Sette fought a rather different battle. A distance combat mage by training and personal skills, she darted about, controlling her Inherent Equipment with her thoughts in a way that would doubtless raise questions about how she could multitask that well later. She noted, almost idly, that Tre had yet to fully absorb the value of her new distance capabilities, but Tre was not her concern. She was backing up Bei with two of her IE blades and the one in her hands. Two was a good balance, fine control still possible without drawing her attention too much to prevent self-defense.

Someone had paid attention to at least some of what they'd been told, as a stick of bombs exploded across the site. The aircraft was too high up to be heard. Conventional aircraft did one thing better than flight mages, and that was having internal oxygen. Fly high enough and the mages couldn't get you.

Tre heard the bomb coming, just barely, right about as it passed her. She darted upward, but the blast caught up with her, knocking her about and showering her with dirt. Jail's cybernetics protected her hearing at least. Then her eyes widened and she looked around for Samuel, head snapping left and right. He had been on the ground and must have been close the impact. "Sentri, Tre. Tell that lunatic with the bombs to watch where they drop them!" He's not dead, she told herself. That bomb wasn't big enough to kill an AA-ranked mage unless it happened to hit them directly in the head or torso. A 250 kilogram one or thereabouts. No more than that.

Weird thoughts come to people in freefall. Perhaps it's the alienness of the situation, since so few people experience it for any length of time. Right now, for Samuel, it was that things could be worse. If they'd had the ability, the locals would doubtless be raining even more high explosive on the area. But they didn't really have any ability, no major military ground units close enough to have responded this fast. Then he hit the ground. Fortunately not head first. Don't tense up. Let yourself roll, pull your arms in. Let the Barrier Jacket do its job. Try not to scream because your eardrums are on the verge of blowing out. Coughing from the dust.

He still had Steelheart in hand, at least, as dirt and small rocks pattered down on him. Back on your feet, get up, move. Only a dead man stays still. Tre was there. He pointed to his ear and shook his head when she tried to speak to him. The blast had left him temporarily deaf. Tre didn't need an earpiece; her implants provided built-in radio transmission and reception. She was presumably advising Sentri to take over for the moment.

Samuel spotted another mage getting up. No longcoat, a hostile. Two fingers extended from a fist, snapped in to his chest, then out again. "Nova!" The beam attack took the mage full in the chest and they went down again. Tre grabbed him a moment later, pulling him out of the way of a beam attack from someone else with an ease that suggested a lot about her true nature and dragging him skyward. He broke free a couple moments later, still able to move on his own, and slipped into a shadow spot, letting Tre lead for now since she could still communicate.

Sette was finding this whole combat somewhat laughable. The New Belkans barely had anything that qualified as a distance attack, and in the open, with room to play with, they just died in droves facing Midchildan mages. A new feeling for her...pity, perhaps? Something to consider later.

Then she spotted the tripod-mounted mass weapon they had set up in the confusion, and her eyes widened in surprise. Maybe they didn't have distance attacks of their own, but... Three tungsten-iron rounds from the New Belkan crew-served railgun struck her. One was stopped by the blade she held, one was an oblique impact off her shoulder that her Barrier Jacket deflected. One punched into her torso, passing clean through the Barrier Jacket, and embedded in the metal plating that replaced her ribcage and protected her vital organs. If she had been a normal mage it would have kept going, glanced off the Barrier Jacket on the other side, and bounced around inside her until it ran out of momentum, causing horrific and certainly lethal internal injuries.

No serious damage, yet. Sette decided, as she let herself freefall to get out of the line of fire, that she didn't like pain. Or surprises. At all.

* * *

"Fleet just dropped out of the Dimensional Sea." Yuuno had a holowindow open, waiting, watching the status of Chrono's fleet.

The teleporter light started to blink, still red, as the operator established a connection. "Come _on._" Nanoha said, on the verge of swearing at the machine._ "Work!" _Though Nanoha had directed her comment at the machine, the operator turned a rather pale shade at the Ace of Aces' obvious anger._  
_

_"Solid connection! Go!"  
_


	18. Sword and Flame

Basically, I've built this matchup around Subaru soaking an anti-tank round in Soundstage X. I assume, since it exploded, that it was a HEAT round. I also assume, since they managed to point it at Subaru at close quarters, it was probably your garden-variety RPG-7/Gustav clone. That gives a fixed mage rank, B+, and a fixed weapon type similar to a variety of modern shoulder-launched rockets. If Subaru can walk through that, then the prospects for taking down B+ and higher mages with Earthly weapons are rather bleak. And we can work down for reasonable methods of dealing with lesser mages...

**Sword and Flame**  
It wasn't a bright and sunny day. Well, it wasn't a sunny day, at least. It was actually pretty bright after someone had coated the area believed to be the New Belkan's primary teleport spot in napalm.

The Earthers weren't stupid, just not really equipped for the targets. The first-response people had been cops, really, not military, and didn't have the tools to take down as hard a target as they were faced with. Even so, they had been creative: shotguns with kinetic penetrator rounds designed to punch locks out of doors would knock a mage over, and they had quickly discovered the effectiveness of teargas.

Now military, weekend military maybe, but they had the tools. Poor tools but the tools. They found out quickly that assault rifles, grenades, and even mortar bombs didn't work. A good burst from a SAW, a hit from a Mark 19 AGL, they would knock a mage over. The problem was that the mage also got back up.

They had a couple Bradleys and a few Hummers. The Brads were safer from their sheer bulk; new Belkan Devices could cut or stab through their armor, but getting that close to an AFV took courage and a sincere hope nobody spotted and ran you over. The New Belkan railguns could hurt their armor too, and they played cat and mouse with the railgun teams, one of them looking almost motheaten from the holes in the infantry compartment. The Bradley guns could make a difference with a long burst, their missiles were killers. And like all armored vehicles they referred to infantry, even mage infantry, as "crunchies" for a reason. Neither of them completed the battle, but both rendered valuable service before they were disabled. The Hummers had it much worse: they simply suffered and died. Their weapons were not enough, nor was their armor, and they lacked the raw intimidation factor. Nor were they quite as maneuverable in the throwing their raw weight around; a Bradley could run its tracks in different directions, abruptly turn in place, and charge to run down a mage. The Hummer could do the same blunt instrument thing and hurt them, but it couldn't crush someone beneath it nor turn on a literal dime. The vehicles contributed something, but not nearly as much as was needed.

It fell to the infantry to solve the problem somehow. Fortunately, they had come packed heavy. They split down into squads and smaller, hunting ground mages with shoulder-fired rockets. Build from the basic stuff, ambush, patrol, the work their fathers and their father's fathers had done before them, going back a long way. It didn't work well at first: a human-sized target was hard to hit with a weapon designed to kill a vehicle or a bunker. So they adapted; they called the cops back and had them teargas the target first so it couldn't move or fight back. They discovered a lot of the C-rankers and all the of B-rankers could actually _take_ a direct hit from the variety of AT4 warheads that were tried; only an antiarmor warhead offered a sure kill or injury. So they would hit them with multiple shots at once, preferably from the antiarmor warheads. That did in C-rankers and mortally wounded the B-rankers if it didn't kill them. Someone had also realized, fighting in the dark as they were, that they might need specialist tools. They had thought to pull the old M202 FLASH incendiary rockets out of storage, and they proved very effective at forcing a mage to breathe in incendiary material. Getting burning stuff in your airway or lungs would kill anyone, and the FLASH's four-tube package and reloadable nature made it more convenient than the much larger single-round AT4s. Two or three rockets from the FLASH would accomplish the same amount as two or three AT4s for considerably less trouble. It was an important discovery for later, but with only two M202 launchers handy it still fell to the AT4s to do the job at hand.

But there simply wasn't any way for them to fight a flight mage. They were just a little too tough for the rockets if you could hit them, which you generally couldn't. The aircraft had tried, but learned that it was dangerous below fifteen thousand feet, and their missiles were simply useless. They could get a lock with radar-guided sometimes, usually off the mage's Device since the Barrier Jacket just absorbed the radar waves like it did any kind of focused energy, but the fragmentation warheads on the missiles didn't do anything besides annoy.

Fortunately it made for a neat division of labor, with the Bureau troops taking on the flight mages, and kept both groups out of each other's way. Which was doubly good since Hayate was throwing around some pretty nasty stuff up there now, and most of the rest of the Bureau mages had been detailed to make sure nobody hit the ground after Hayate knocked the hell out of them. It wasn't as humanitarian as it sounded; every prisoner is another bit of information.

But the flight mages weren't stupid either and they realized their vulnerability. They went to ground, and the real fighting began. Tree to tree, bush to bush, and in one unfortunate case room-to-room, across half of upstate New York. The locals and the Bureau had to coordinate; one couldn't fight the enemy and one couldn't find the enemy. It had fallen to Team 70, Zafira, and Vita for the most part. Hayate was more useful as an area-denial weapon, and her white Barrier Jacket looked just a little too much like New Belkan white uniform; Fate and Nanoha both had the white problem too. The black longcoats of the Navy mages, the small size and deep crimson of Vita's Barrier Jacket, Zafira's dark blue, they were different enough to be safer.

Two men from very different nations. "Commander." He looked like an infantryman, with his face painted and his assault rifle carried in one hand. His nametag read _Parker, L. _He commanded a rifle company of the New York National Guard, and wasn't having a good day.

_ "_Captain." Samuel replied. The Bureau didn't adopt camouflage for the simple reason they wanted their enemies to come to them. The black longcoat was equally intimidating in its own way. He didn't wear a nametag, but he'd been on TV, and doubtless the militaries of the world had watched closely. "I've got ten people. How do you want them disposed?"

It took four hours, and despite their care, there was one friendly-fire incident. Sette was hit with an AT4. Fortunately they did not closely examine how she could still be standing when everyone else had been knocked over even if they weren't injured.

Chrono's fleet had discovered they had depressingly little to do on arrival. Though a crude method by their standards, Earth's mass nuclear attack on the Belkan War Cruiser had worked. It did, however, tell Earth a lot about what to look for to spot Dimensional Sea entry and exit, and also something of what the Bureau could do at short notice; twenty ships. The Bureau had decades to feel out Earth, but Earth was learning on the fly. They were also paying close attention to what Hayate was doing. Watching Hayate in full-up heavy casting spam was enough to scare _anyone_, and Earth's various powers had it made worse by the fact for all they knew, Hayate wasn't unique. After this if someone had twigged to the Combat Cyborgs, it probably wouldn't even have gotten through the noise surrounding the girl who constituted a Weapon of Mass Destruction.

At least the general populace didn't know. They hoped.

* * *

Tre came off the field five hours after the arrival of Hayate's unit, when they had finally decided they had gotten the last of the flight mages; never having had a perfect count of the ones that made it down before the cruiser was blown to bits, they had to guess. The New Belkans were _terrified_ of the Wolkenritter, and even more than Hayate's rendering the air over upstate New York unflyable it was the presence of the Wolkenritter that had driven them to scatter and go to ground. Tre wasn't too proud to admit who the real threat was.

Team 70 wasn't looking terribly well, but they were all alive this time. That qualified it as a good fight by most standards. With the embassy gone, all Bureau personnel on Earth had been temporarily withdrawn to the fleet. Most of the team had taken the opportunity to get some sleep. Only Sentri and Tre still seemed to be awake.

And it felt distinctly weird to Tre to be, once more, among friends. She'd barely adapted to the concept of friends. There had always been a level of distrust between her and the old Team 70, the one she had worked with to hunt Jail. Despite that, she had come to consider some of them friends, her first friends. Before that the world had been divided up into sisters, enemies, and Jail Scaligetti. But it hadn't lasted long. She had spent a week in the company of her sisters again, then back to the Navy, on to Earth where, under the microscope, they hadn't been very friendly. It just wasn't possible, with the embassy assignment. At least one of the new Team 70 appeared to have a problem with her too. Galland even looked vaguely familiar, and Tre had a sinking suspicion she had crossed blades with him before joining the Bureau, or possibly a close relative. Either way it wasn't hopeful; Tre hadn't left many people behind in a survivable condition.

But the moment they were back aboard a Bureau starship, Carolyn Altima had come over to talk with Tre about the old Team 70, and Simo. They ranked roughly the same; Tre wasn't sure what Carolyn's date of rank was, probably less recent than hers, but they were both Veteran Mage Specialists and that was enough unless somebody tried giving an order.

It was a bit awkward. Back then, Carolyn had taken after her then-section leader, Bei, and maintained a professional interest in the capabilities of a Combat Cyborg but a polite, respectful distance. Now, though...perhaps it was something about combat, something that having seen a person fight for the same cause; for you, really. Tre was intimately familiar with the fact that you don't usually fight for a cause as much as you do for the person next to you: that was why she had fought for Jail for so long, not for the grand dream, but for her sisters.

She shook it off. Next she'd be off on some grand crud about the brotherhood of all fighting men and women. Better to keep to the fundamentally simple. She wasn't Uno and grand judgments held danger even if she had been. Just like where they'd gotten Father.

The others all slept because it was the easiest, the best, way to come down from the adrenaline and crisis-response mode. Tre didn't, because there was no need to come down, and little need for sleep. Cybernetics and bioengineering; enhanced adrenal response, fast recovery. She wondered where Uno was. Probably talking to the Earth types. Uno was a good talker, smart, mindful of things that could be said and not said. Damage control after having deployed Hayate Yagami to upstate New York without a barrier to hide it. They didn't quite want to drop the concept of barriers on Earth yet, Tre guessed.

Sentri sat down across from her abruptly and Tre started to come to attention, only to be waved back down. "They're awful scared of Hayate's people, don't you think?"

"Anyone who isn't scared of Hayate's people is out of their minds." Tre replied. "Ma'am."

"First names in the mess." Sentri responded. "Kate." It was an old tradition, more often invoked in Ground Forces, where enlisted and officers ate separately, than in Navy, where the ship's mess aboard an L-class cruiser served everyone. "Nobody's managed to prove a link between the Rogue Wolkenritter and the New Belkans, at least that I can find out, but it's looking awful likely. The real ones don't know these people, but..."

"If they're shock troops, somebody's not using them well. Kate." Tre replied. Sentri was new, unfamiliar because of the enforced un-closeness of the embassy assignment. "A group of Wolkenritter would have left us as smears on the ground."

Sentri didn't appear to believe it. "You fought a Signum to a standstill."

"Because Uno was there to render her Levantine copy an overly long sword instead of an Intelligent Device." Tre replied. "Schlange would have skinned me alive. Believe me, no matter how good we all are, we're not going to take on Wolkenritter. Not even fake ones." Then, suddenly, it came to her in a rush. "Father. Jail. He was scared enough to start building cyborgs out of anyone who would volunteer, and the fake ones were-_Jail knows something._" Tre couldn't get it out fast enough and just skipped to the end. Sometimes having an enhanced brain actually hinders your ability to speak, because your mind works too quickly. "He knew they were coming. He thought they were coming _for him_. And they were around several times when the Bureau went looking for him or his stuff-"

"That's a good thought." Sentri said. "A very good thought. I think we'd better wake the Commander."

* * *

"Does it buy us anything?" Hayate asked, sighing. "Jail has been leaned on very hard by the Bureau, twice now. He won't talk."

"We could threaten him with Signum." Samuel said mildly.

That brought Signum's head around sharply. He couldn't know. But he'd been there...she clamped down, hard, on the panic. He still had no way of knowing. Unless he could read minds. She was prepared to believe many things, but not that. Uno was not the type to be indiscreet and only Uno knew outside the Wolkenritter themselves. Her world was _not_ about to end.

Maybe. "I did beat him up pretty badly, but he bounced back inside a week. Unless they tell me to go at him, and somehow come up with a reason convincing enough to make me," her voice said that wasn't going to happen ever, "I will get nothing."

Amy Harlaown rushed into the room. "Chrono...everyone else too. We have big trouble."

"Bigger than Colonel Yagami having gone one-woman nuclear arsenal over New York, ma'am?" Samuel asked.

"Much. None of the paparazzi who were camping outside the perimeter lived. But one of them was streaming live to his home computer, and his roommate found it." The paparazzi who had camped outside the Bureau embassy for weeks had died in droves. The cops had cleared them away when it became obvious there might be a fight, but they had tried to sneak back with visions of striking it big and rich, visions that had ultimately killed them all. The New York National Guard unit that had showed up for the fight had taken hideous losses, the SWAT and beat cops had nearly been wiped out to a man. Civilians had never stood a chance. "He caught some of the battle on tape. Hayate is on every major news channel." Amy shook her head and called up a holowindow to demonstrate the point. CNN. Hayate and a Diabolic Emission.

Chrono's face could have been cast in stone, and Signum's wasn't much more expressive. Samuel closed his eyes before he looked in Hayate's direction and resisted a very strong urge to turn around and beat his head against a bulkhead. "At this point, telling people about Tre or Sette may have actually been easier on us, sir and ma'ams."

Chrono turned a gimlet eye on him. "Commander, at this point I'm thankful it was Hayate and not one of the cyborgs. This is something I can defuse. We put the Colonel on TV. We show she was a citizen of Japan until she signed on full time with us. She's as human as they are."

It was a logical step, but Samuel doubted it would be enough. And despite Chrono's apparent surety, he suspected the Admiral might doubt it too. "By your leave, sir." Chrono made a dismissive gesture and he left.

Tre was waiting just outside, and Sentri. "They don't think it will help." Then the belated "Sir." Tre could, perversely, read him better than his team 2IC. Samuel metaphorically directed a few annoyed thoughts at Chrono for having broken up the old team, and hoped Sentri would learn fast.

"They're going to try, but Jail hasn't been very cooperative." Samuel replied.

"I should have known that." Tre muttered.

"He's your father. He answered your questions, found you things. It was still a good thought." Samuel replied amicably. Tre gave him a wary glance. The man was downright _dangerous_ at times. Like Uno, he made connections, did the math, put things together. And being team leader, his job tended to revolve around applied psychology a lot.

Samuel didn't play head games with his own people, not directly, or at least not that she knew; Tre wasn't willing to rule out that she just might not be sophisticated enough to see them. But he'd shown some aptitude for it back on Earth, playing the I know you know I know and its close the cousin the keep very attentive locals in the dark. Father would approve of him, Tre was sure.

Scary thought.

On several levels, no less. It wasn't as if she could take her friends, or coworkers, home to make sure her parent approved. It wasn't as if she really _wanted_ Jail to approve of the company she kept. She had been reading the Bureau's military manuals in her spare time, however...

"A good officer must have the respect of their troops, both for their physical and their mental prowess. They should also be slightly afraid of their officer." said the manual. And so it was. Perhaps he was that way naturally. Or perhaps he was building an image.

It had not always been Tre's nature to wonder who people were in the dark. A year in an Orbital Penal Complex, and plenty of time to contemplate darkness, had changed that. It didn't help she still wasn't entirely convinced about who she was in the dark.

"Commander!" Somebody from Circe's crew. "I have a message here for you, it's about-" The woman had to stop to take a breath. She'd been running. "It's about the _Shaula_, your mother's ship."

Tre expected to see his face crumble, to show some concern at the least. Instead, Samuel nodded slowly, face calm, but there was a fragility to the motion, as if he was afraid to move faster lest it destroy his self-control. "Damaged or destroyed in action."

"The ship was badly damaged, yes...no word on crew casualties." The woman recoiled from the obvious _dammit why did you tell me then_ on his face, and Tre sympathized with that sentiment. Why tell someone their mother _might_ be dead, unless you wanted them to suffer?

She reached out and touched his arm, just a moment. Tre wasn't sure if she was expressing support, or reminding him not to scream at the little people, and tried to cast her expression such it could be taken both ways. For a moment their eyes met and she saw an almost pathetic gratefulness there, then it was gone before Sentri or anyone else could have read it.

Building an image then. But not afraid to let it crack, for the people he felt he knew well enough not to need the image to motivate them?

* * *

Signum resisted the urge to rub her forehead. Getting Hayate on television was...she didn't have words to describe it. The aliens were real, and had demonstrated sufficient alienness to prove it. Mass hysteria. Governments that had denied the existence of the Bureau and the alien threat had rioting in the streets. China had nearly started a nuclear war by thinking the mass launch of ICBMs might be a plot to get in a nuclear attack on them by their enemies and preparing to respond in kind. North Korea was openly talking about invading the South in what looked like a fit of pique that they weren't getting much attention any more. Fundamentalist religions of various stripes were going insane, or more insane depending on their degree of fundamentalism and one's viewpoint.

There was a _reason_ the Bureau didn't contact worlds openly. It was _ugly_. You woke up in the morning and discovered the sky wasn't blue, had never been blue at all. The fundamental nature of your reality was altered. Nobody liked it. Nobody took it well.

Everybody went a little nuts, which meant everybody turned into a security risk. If you couldn't trust the sound and light crew on Larry King not to have a berserk episode, things were bad. And it was doubly bad because Hayate had to appear in uniform, not in her Barrier Jacket. Nothing short of dropping the building on her would have been a worry if she'd been able to appear in her Barrier Jacket, but in uniform she was as vulnerable as a non-mage. Any idiot with a concealed firearm, a _knife, _their bare hands if they were good or lucky...

That was why she was here. That was why she had Levantine out, not quite held ready to use, why she was in Unison with Agito with the flaming wings from her back. It _scared_ people. They didn't want to even try to go to the bathroom with her near the studio exit. Signum was fairly sure one of them had preferred to wet his pants rather than pass her. A sword impresses on a fundamental, atavistic level that a firearm does not.

She ignored the interview, probably the only person within a lightyear or two who was doing so, and focused on the studio crew. To one side, just offcamera, Zafira was watching the people who were in the camera's field of view. They were the threat, the promise, that a rash act here would carry the heaviest consequences imaginable. It was old, familiar work for them, something they had practiced hundreds of times in service to people who were considerably less friendly and had considerably fewer friends than Hayate.

Hayate had wanted them to not be quite so intimidating, but ultimately she had deferred to their judgment. Not because she felt compelled by its logic, though it was good logic. She knew they would never forgive themselves if something happened to her. Sometimes it was best to let them do things their way, to ease their anxiety.

Signum wondered if perhaps she should pray. It was not a strong impulse in her. She had faith in herself and her abilities the way others might have faith in a higher being. Faith in Vita, Zafira, Shamal. They were Wolkenritter, and together there was nothing in the universe that could hurt them, nothing that could stop them.

But did it really count as faith? She had, after all, arrived at it by empirically testing her ability to kill or incapacitate any other living thing existence. Faith was the belief in the absence of proof. Signum had proof, proof that she was the nearest thing to a war goddess that had ever walked this planet. She could even take on Reinforce, if she could get close enough.

Which was admittedly a very large if. Signum angrily reminded herself to stay focused, and Zafira seemed amused at her self-anger considering her focus had never actually wavered. The wolf was the only one of the Wolkenritter who had properly retained the ability to laugh through it all, the millenia of abuse both intentional and unintentional. Signum supposed that made him the strongest. They had all recovered their ability to laugh by now, of course, though none of them were particularly good at laughing at themselves.

Hayate stood, and offered a bow. Zafira would have quirked an eyebrow if he had been in human form. _She's reverting her mannerisms the longer she stays on Earth. I wonder if it's deliberate._

Signum directed a mental head-shaking at Zafira. _Like it would be anything else. _

Ah. That must be what faith was like. She stepped over to meet Hayate halfway. "All right." Hayate responded before Signum could form the question either mentally or out loud. Hayate called up her Barrier Jacket with a wave of her hand. Signum counted five people in the studio who physically recoiled from seeing that happen. One of them stepped back until he hit a wall.

They weren't ready for this. They just weren't. She resisted the urge to shake her head as she lead the way to the building's lobby. But wasn't that the story of combat? You did not fight opponents who were ready for you, not if you were smart. All the Bureau could do was buy them time to prepare. It might have done her good to know the speed with which many militaries were adapting to the threat, but she did not; and the reasoning for that was that they didn't trust the Bureau either. And that was part of the greater, overarching problem Signum realized she was confronting. Signum frowned and summoned a holowindow. "_Circe_."

Amy Harlaown's image. "_Circe_ here."

"Three to recover."


	19. Visiting Hours For Your Head

I really liked Chrono's uniform in the first two seasons, which is the main reason I adopted it as if it's the real Navy Mage uniform. If you buy into the actual continuity of uniforms through the series, regular Navy mages apparently belong to the Air Force. Go figure.  
I ran across an image of Signum yesterday, during my occasional follow images to their marked source runs of my Wolkenritter collection. "time washes everyone clean". I'd link to it if I was allowed...

**What Are The Visiting Hours For Your Head?**

The Bureau bunked people together aboard ship. No crew member, except the captain or a flag officer, had a single-occupancy room. By the same token, however, no more than two people were ever bunked in the same space. There was probably a good reason for this, something to do with psychology or the like, but it was a mystery that few people who lived and worked aboard the ships were interested in solving.

It could also be significantly awkward on occasion when they had people who _weren't_ Bureau aboard and couldn't grasp how the Bureau had ever gotten past the gender-related problems of bunking a crew that probably did not consist of perfectly even numbers of males and females in two-person groups. Or for that matter, bunking a Mage Team by section, regardless of the genders of the two people who composed the section. The simple answer was that the problem didn't come up anymore; Midchildan and Belkan society had been gender-equal for hundreds of years because the presence of a Linker Core did not discriminate. If you couldn't handle about fifty percent of the people you encountered in the average day, you wouldn't get far. You behaved well or you behaved somewhere else.

The long answer was peer pressure. There were a few offenses that could destroy the social fabric upon which a military is built, and all would be dealt with harshly by the the rank and file themselves, never mind authority. The deviant would be cast out, or they would at least suffer a variety of informal and thoroughly unpleasant attempts to adjust their attitude.

So when Yuuno Scrya sat bolt upright, it took him a second to realize the scream hadn't been his own no matter how high-pitched it was. He immediately turned to dive out of his bed and reach for Uno, but his brain registered that the thrashing Combat Cyborg had managed to dent the bulkhead next to her. She could snap him like a twig if he got close and she wasn't aware of it. "Uno!"

No response. He called up his Barrier Jacket for at least minimal protection. "_Uno! Wake up!_" He grabbed her nearest hand and pulled. Maybe if he could pull her out of bed she'd wake up. The price for that was having his wrist twisted in a completely unnatural way when she got a grip on it. He yelped.

That woke Uno up. She sat up, sliding out of her bed in a way that suggested practice. She hadn't been in the Bureau long enough to acquire it naturally, which meant deliberate practice at getting out of bed rapidly without tangling the sheets. Then she froze. "Yuuno?"

"You were having a nightmare." Yuuno replied, deliberately ignoring the use of his first name. To Uno, he'd always been "Scrya." "You screamed. Dented the bulkhead too." He didn't hold his wrist. Uno probably had enough to deal with at the moment.

Uno calmed herself with an effort of will. It wasn't a metaphor: cybernetics, active control of bodily functions. She shut off her adrenal response, adjusted her hormone levels, and slowed her breathing by conscious effort. "And injured you." None of the raw terror of the scream; calm, clinical, controlled. "I will have to throttle my cybernetics before I go to bed from now on." Only the first few of the Combat Cyborgs were able to consciously throttle down the strength of their cybernetics; Jail had for some reason eliminated that ability after the first four. Machining down to match the standards he'd originally been given for them by Regius Graz, maybe.

The door slid open, and a sleepy-looking but worried Nanoha entered. "Everything okay in here?" Raising Heart was in her hand, but she hadn't summoned up her Barrier Jacket and had on most of a rumpled Air Force formal white-and-blue. The uniform jacket was missing and Nanoha only had on the undershirt.

"Everything is fine." Yuuno replied. Uno noted he did not quite look at Nanoha to say it.

"As long as the wall doesn't hit me anymore." Nanoha replied warily, backing out of the room, and the door shut again.

"You want to talk about it?" Yuuno asked.

"No." Uno replied.

"Do you _need_ to talk about it?" Yuuno was very good at looking nonthreatening.

It was probably the glasses, Uno assessed. He didn't actually need them, one of the first things that had happened when he'd been enlisted had been corrective surgery. She had grown up with, was the _clone_ of, someone who regarded screwing with people's minds as a hobby. You couldn't play a player, but she didn't think Yuuno was trying to play her. "Perhaps." She wasn't in uniform. A white undershirt and a pair of panties. She noted that Yuuno hadn't even glanced below her neck. Self-control? Or genuinely gentlemanly? She accorded him a little more respect either way. "We need to get your wrist seen to."

Her Barrier Jacket was simple, baggy Ground Forces utilities, in the white and gold that the Dream Team had adopted for themselves as informal insignia; Fate's cape now had gold trimming, and Nanoha had shifted to a gold fringe around her skirt's bottom edge. The Barrier Jacket was easier than putting on her brown Ground Forces formals. The ship's medical department assessed a bad sprain for Yuuno's wrist and proscribed five minutes with his hand in a box that would deal with the problem.

One of the Earth guys aboard was there and quietly whistled. "You people have nice toys."

"It only works on a mage." Uno said. She tinged her voice with regret. Maybe if she pretended not to be cold and calculating long enough it would stick. _Circe_ was on a mission of goodwill; a little trip to Mars. Dig the rover out of a ditch, bring back the Viking 1 and Viking 2 probes. They had, perhaps, thought Chrono wouldn't go for it if they chose Mars rather than the Moon. It had been a bad guess. Or maybe they were feeling out the Bureau, trying to establish lower limits on Dimensional Sea travel range?

Uno ran through a brief calculation of the possibilities. Given Earth's weapons technology, finding out how far a ship could jump, or at least if it could jump the distance to the Moon, would have been useful. They had self-powered projectiles down cold. Learning if their missile tech would work reliably or if Bureau ships could sidestep it and remain at a tactically relevant range would be useful.

She felt a flash of anger. They were here to help these people but...no. It made sense. The Bureau had the ability to reduce a planetary surface to cinders, one they had never exercised, would never exercise, but that existed. Fear was a reasonable response. Wariness was a doubly reasonable response.

Yuuno dragged her back to the present unintentionally. "Nightmares?" The defensive mage phrased it unobtrusively. _Now_ he was trying to play her, but Uno was surprised to discover she was not entirely unwilling to be played.

Uno contemplated answering. With the Earther still here, it was impractical...and unlike Tre she had not taken to regular telepathy. Though there was hope she could learn flight. She didn't exactly lie to Yuuno, but she didn't discuss _the_ nightmare. Just a nightmare. "You recall my first combat was aboard _Invincible_. It was not a...gentle introduction. No chance to ease in."

Yuuno chuckled softly. "You didn't get hurt. My first try at combat nearly killed me. Ask some of the others why I'm called Ferret-Boy sometime."

Uno didn't have to ask. Metamorphic skills. Smaller body requires smaller expenditure of Linker Core energy to heal, keep alive. Deductive reasoning was relatively easy when her day job involved mentally out-muscling AIs.

_And I know you don't have to ask._ Yuuno's voice. Warmth, kindness...nothing else. She wondered if it was possible to filter telepathy. Surely his mind, his _soul_, couldn't be that perfectly spotless. Not anymore. Perhaps. Maybe.

If there was anyone in Hayate's band she'd believe was still pure as fresh-fallen snow, Yuuno was that person. Uno scolded herself. Yes, he's saved your life a number of times; he's your partner, he's supposed to do that. Don't give him a by on that alone. Still...

_Actually, I was thinking of what Father, Jail that is, did to some of the second round of cyborgs. Shut down their systems remotely. Left them a prisoner in their own body. Briefly._ Uno watched the expression of her companion closely.

Yuuno's expression didn't change immediately. He took a moment, trying to understand, to use the imagination that made him so good as an archeologist. Then it changed, and he nodded his response. _I understand._ And Uno almost believed he did.

* * *

Part of the problem with liaising with Earth military, Tre was realizing, was that they didn't have a frame of reference for Bureau culture. The Bureau was an organization that existed only in fantasy on Earth. It did not discriminate on the basis of gender, creed, sexual orientation, or race, and it only barely qualified as discriminating based on age since it had a solid rule against recruiting younger than eight regardless of passing the pysch eval or not. The one true problem it had was 15% of its officers and enlisted were serving out or had served a penal term of service and occasionally had been at violent odds with the rest before.

It was not preach; it was practice. The concept of discrimination on a trait that was not functional was utterly alien. The Bureau's antecedents, the Midchildan Armed Forces and the Belkan Empire, had been practicing for hundreds of years before. There were _never_ enough mages, and the presence of a Linker Core did not discriminate on any basis. You had to take magical aptitude where you could find it. And because there were never enough mages, support and command roles, anyone who didn't actually fight, were open to non-mages because of the need to economize on mages for the front lines.

And some of the Earth people, like the PLA senior colonel currently visiting, simply couldn't handle it. Tre had no idea if it was a personal problem or one related to his service's culture, but it wore thin fast. _Athra_'s crew slightly over half female, Team 70 was perfectly split half and half, and the man couldn't handle it. He couldn't take it seriously.

It was making people _angry_. Sette was detailed as his escort for three reasons. The first was that she was effectively proof against anything he could do to her. The second was that Combat Cyborg was both unstoppable force and immovable object. Twice the normal weight of a woman her size and build because of her cybernetics, many times the lifting capacity. If the colonel did something stupid, or at this point more stupid, Sette could stop him with an ease that would impress upon both him and his government the lesson that the Bureau was not to be annoyed.

The third reason was that Sette was Sette. Her expression gave away nothing. She did not get angry. She did not get anything_. _A perfect poker face. Anyone else on the team would have succumbed to the urge to show some kind of contempt or anger by now, but not Sette. Sette would show nothing.

Though Sette felt some contempt too. She had so informed Tre privately, using her built-in radio. It was very private, considering they were the only people on the ship equipped to receive and process radio using the Doctor's encryption. It mainly centered around the fact that no one should condescend to someone capable of snapping them like a twig.

And the captain was seriously contemplating letting Sette demonstrate this by having her shake hands with the man at the end and dislocate a few of his fingers in the process. Tre didn't tap her foot next to the teleport array, but she was considering it. That was about when Uno materialized there.

"How is the visit going?" Uno asked.

"Well." Tre replied, at the same time she used her cybernetics to give her real reply. _Awful. He's __annoyed the entire crew, even Sette. First impression of the People's Liberation Army is a complete wash._

Uno's expression suggested sardonic amusement. _The ones who went to _Circe_ were at least naval officers. _"As expected. How have you been, Tre?"

"Busy. Life under a microscope, you understand?" Tre replied calmly.

Uno turned to examine her sister. The black longcoat, black pants and armored boots, short black overjacket with silver trimming. In Tre's case, the cuffs were replaced by her Inherent Equipment, and the upper part of the boots as well. And, Uno noted, Tre had drawn the spikes for her shoulder devices. It was a striking outfit that the Navy mages wore. Intimidating as all hell. A Navy mage, at night or in a rainstorm... Some Non-Administrated Worlds had legends of the black men that came for the guilty in the night. Someday, Tre would contribute to them, and she would do so well. "I do. Life under the microscope, talking to the locals. They're very upset right now. Universe turned upside down and shaken, stuff like that."

Tre shook her head. "You make it sound so very clinical."

"Occupational hazard." Uno replied. "I fight with computers for a living, everything is very cut and dried. A Device rarely has deep psychology. They operate on very simple wants and needs. People are much more interesting, much more nuanced."

"You sound as if you have someone in particular in mind." Tre observed. Uno was careful and smart, and didn't like to give things away. But Uno was still Tre's sister, and Tre knew her too well.

"Nanoha Takamachi. Understanding action requires understanding actor." Uno replied easily. Perfect truth, but misleading nonetheless. "Wendi could learn a lot from her."

Tre turned her head and fixed Uno with the _less bull please_ look she had learned from Bei and Samuel. "If you want to detour me into the land of make-believe, you're going to have to try harder _sister._"

Uno sighed. You cannot play a player. Or a player's daughter. "Choices, Tre. Trying to learn about people and why they make choices."

* * *

"What just happened?" Signum asked softly. She did not raise her voice. She did not project any overt threat. She did not need to. The ship's crew respected her. The newcomers picked up on that respect. Nobody aboard the multinational group that had come aboard _Circe_ for this mission was so dense as to miss it.

The reply did not please her, and she directed the two Bureau crew to see the captain, leaving her to speak to the man from Earth. "Lieutenant Commander Fairchild. I will accept that it would have been irresponsible not to try to get some kind of information from us. I will accept that you may even have been ordered to. But your method leaves a lot to be desired."

He was a Brit, some kind of special forces most likely. Signum was not entirely sure of the details. He had the look of it, excessively fit. He didn't find Signum intimidating, which almost made the senior Wolkenritter shake her head. If only he knew who, _what_, he was talking to, the man would be scrambling away from her. "So what happens now? Tossed out an airlock?"

"The Bureau does not believe in lethal punishment. Unless you intend to resist?" Signum replied, with a raised eyebrow. "The rules about bringing in suspected troublemakers alive are flexible as required. Mind, I doubt you would pose enough of a challenge to me that I would be forced to kill you to subdue you."

The Lieutenant Commander appeared to weigh his response, not having expected belligerence. "And if I was ordered to this?"

"I doubt Her Majesty's Armed Forces are quite that bush league." Signum replied. "I doubt _you_ are quite that bush league, for that matter. You would have handled it better if you were thinking, so I suspect you were not. It was not deliberate efforts at spying, merely thoughtlessly making a pass at someone. No blood, no foul, but try not to come to our attention again."

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. Probably was embarrassed, at that. Mortified in a near-literal sense. Signum remanded him to the custody of his Captain and shook her head at him once they were out of sight.

Why did everyone feel like children? Was she finally starting to feel _old_ after all this time? No, that couldn't be it. She didn't get that reaction to most people. Just the Earthers. Perhaps it was because she'd had to tell a lot of them "don't touch that" recently. Signum didn't want to think about what Levantine would do to someone that touched it unauthorized. The sword had a lot of practical experience to draw on when it came to ways to cause pain, after all.

Not that Levantine was actively commanded to react to theft. The attempt of theft, really; a Wolkenritter could call their Device to hand across any distance, despite any obstacle, with just a thought. A smallscale form of teleportation managed by the Book. Levantine was a bit...harsh, that was all. The sword brooked no nonsense anymore. It had stopped after the first couple hundred masters and mistresses of the Wolkenritter. In a way, Signum had been envious of her Device. It didn't have to take their various insanities and abuses.

But she had also been grateful, since the sword had on occasion stepped in against a few of the more excessive ones. A loaded cartridge, a random activation, a dead master. It was something the Wolkenritter themselves could no more do then they could stop breathing, but a Device has a certain leeway in protecting its owner. After awhile Levantine, like the Wolkenritter, had simply given up. Unless the master or mistress tried to use the sword against a Wolkenritter, for that was the one thing it would never abide. Then they would die. Quick and clean, a head off, a torso in half. The sword was no fool. Shamal might be able to save them from something less than that, and Shamal had to try.

"I don't understand." A simple phrase, nearby. A fragment of memory. She closed her eyes.

* * *

_I don't understand._ But what was there to understand, really? It was all so painfully obvious, and yet she, they, struggled. They did not _want_ to understand. They did not want to believe the evidence in front of them.

Their mistress was completely insane. She was ordering them to kill random people. Wipe random towns off the map. Kill everyone. Painfully. And do remember to record it. What more evidence was needed? What other proof was required?

I don't understand. I don't want to understand. Not much difference between the two. Maybe this wouldn't be what all their masters and mistresses were like...

* * *

Now I understand, Signum thought ruefully. Now I understand, much too well. And I am not sure I can make anyone else understand. I am not sure I want to.

Irony, that. Always the problem with having been a monster once. If you told your friends, would they believe you? If they did, would they still be your friends? The age-old question for the Wolkenritter had always been "Who can we trust?" And the answer had, at least until Hayate came along, been "No one."

That wasn't true anymore. They could trust lots of people now. The question was instead "How far can we trust them?" And the answer, at least for Signum, was "I don't know." Who wouldn't react with horror to realize what kind of a monster they spoke to? Who had played the monster themselves before?

_Tre._


	20. Places We've Been

**Places We've Been**

"This is a dumb idea and I can't let you do it." Agito said firmly. Signum simply stared at Agito, as if to say _oh really why_. Agito continued. "I've talked with people and you can't go having conversations about the nature of evil with someone who's working very hard to convince themselves they aren't evil and still doesn't quite buy it. This could blow up badly. I can't let you."

"Talked with who?" Signum demanded of the Unison Device.

"Samuel. We've been keeping in touch since he visited the house, didn't you know?" Agito shot back.

No, Signum hadn't known. "And he thinks this would be disastrous."

"He thinks if you want to visit Tre, she will not be available. And that was a direct quote. He even wanted me to say so if you asked." Agito replied.

Signum was mildly impressed. Few people were willing to gainsay a Wolkenritter even at this level of remove. Still... "Then let us find out if he means it, Agito." The Unison Device's expression went directly to _oh crap_, and Signum was quietly amused.

* * *

And there was the man himself, and he read Agito's expression like a book, adopting a grim look of his own. "Dame Signum, Agito."

"Commander. Is Tre available?" Signum asked.

"No." Simple, direct. Samuel fixed her with his best officer's insufferable gaze. It was good one, Signum had to admit, but there was no one in the universe who could intimidate a Wolkenritter with a simple look. And plenty of people who would...

Or not. He didn't flinch at the return look. He held her gaze. Not a single sign of cracking. Samuel _knew_ what he was having a staredown with. He _knew_ that Signum could kill him in seconds, despite his own training, his skills, his Device, his Barrier Jacket. None of that would avail him anything. He had, as a mortal human could only have, the faintest inkling of the matchless, ageless evils that had been worked through her, but that faintest inkling had been enough to cause great warriors to flee in terror before. And the truth was that even his rank didn't count for much. She was far more qualified to give orders than he was, older, more battle-wise than any natural human could ever be. The Bureau needed Signum far more than it needed him. And yet he could hold her gaze, unflinching.

Agito had sort of expected this, but not for so long. They were rapidly getting close to one minute and nobody showed any sign of cracking. She wouldn't have credited Samuel for...well, actually she would. Agito had been talking with him on a regular basis, dropping a small fraction of her salary on the live calls because she had found someone who shared her instinctive dislike of being maneuvered. They were both completely fine with orders, but not with someone attempting to play with their heads.

At two minutes, Signum inclined her head forward slightly in silent respect. She could not intimidate this man, and for that she felt strangely grateful. "You are certain, then."

"We aren't all comfortable in the dark. We aren't all able to sleep soundly." Samuel replied. "Not everyone can be you. Not even most."

_And how comfortable are you in the dark?_ Signum asked, turning away as sent it.

_Depends on who the dark belongs to. _Signum actually managed a slight smile at that. A thoughtful answer. Bureau troops liked natural darkness, for much the same reasons anyone with infrared and nightvision technologies did: you could actually see better in the dark, find people more easily in the dark, than you could in daylight. But the darkness inside of people...fourteen years of service meant you had to develop _some_ kind of level of comfort with what happened when a mage went nuts or somebody decided to screw with the fundamental nature of reality, with death and blood and bizarre and ugly.

If he wanted to keep his secrets, let him. Signum had many of her own and understood the impulse. Agito had yet to turn away from Samuel, however. "I have heard your mother's ship was damaged..."

"She is unhurt." Samuel replied. "Sent me a quick video letter. And no, not this time."

Agito grinned. "Wasn't going to ask." Signum figuratively sat in a different sort of figurative darkness as she tried to divine meaning from the last part of Agito and Samuel's exchange.

Sette watched it all. She was not as clueless as might be thought; while she didn't have much personal experience with emotion, she could recognize symptoms of it in others. Samuel had warned Tre and Tre had clearly been uncomfortable. So Samuel had headed off Signum for her. Kind of him. The Doctor wouldn't have done that, instead insisting Tre confront her problems. What does not kill you makes you stronger, and so on. Sette had long since grasped the opposing viewpoint, that what does not kill you makes it easier for the next thing, also had truth to it.

* * *

The Bureau had allowed access by Earthly interrogators to the prisoners taken by Hayate's team, but had politely pointed out that the requests by a number of nations to actually take possession of them were impractical. They had neither the knowledge nor the facilities to handle a mage prisoner.

Ultimately, there wasn't much to learn that wasn't duplicate knowledge. The Bureau had learned a great deal from the capture of the _Invincible_, but what they really needed was coordinates, starmaps, Dimensional Sea routes. Something that would let them force a battle rather than react. Ten thousand years of recorded Belkan history and four thousand of Midchildan had taught that wars were won by offensive action. None of these people knew the right things.

At least, not directly. "So you think if we can establish a time for when they were contacted by Belka, we might be able to isolate a specific incident." Chrono said, leaning forward.

Uno nodded. "Hopefully. At this point we think it was continuing contact, so we need to narrow it down better. But there are odd gaps in what they know. They seem to be aware of the Sankt Kaiser, for example. Then even know she died, and regard it as a good thing. But even though Midchilda had several hundred years of history with Belka by the time of the Sankt Kaiser's death, they are ignorant of Mid or the Bureau."

Chrono shook his head. "Belka had a problem with admitting someone could stand up to them." Had the Belkan Empire sent a serious campaign against Midchilda then history would be very different, but it had been a poorly-directed splinter of their raw power that tried to impose its will on the old Midchildan Federation. They had lost, and lost badly, and the resulting blow to the image of the invincible Belkan Empire had been the catalyst for general chaos and the centuries-long Belkan Civil War.

Uno nodded. "True enough. Still, odd. They did not appear to expect contact with the Bureau here. The prisoners who will talk at all give the impression that they think they have been walking into a series of traps. But they do not appear to regard it as a sign their leadership is inadequate except for one or two. And those are usually told to keep their opinions to themselves for fear of a group called 'The Immortal Order.'"

Chrono closed his eyes. "Let me guess. The Rogue Wolkenritter."

Uno nodded. "The same. They appear to be the New Belkan leadership's means of maintaining power and interacting with lesser groups. Details on actual leadership above that are sketchy. Though they are quite convinced it exists." Uno paused a moment. "And if I may editorialize, that does seem likely so far. The Rogue Wolkenritter, or at least the ones with which we have had contact, have not acted in a manner that would let them organize an empire."

Chrono raised an eyebrow. "But meeting some of them is not meeting all of them?"

"Yes sir." Uno replied. "And our inability to distinguish one group from another means we will never be able to confirm if we've met them all. Which we suspect may be the point. The fifty-plus number we have is itself just a guess by a New Belkan source, but it seems well-reasoned."

It did tell Chrono things, though. First, his enemy was astute. They had chosen a tool whose capabilities could never be completely determined and that could never be planned for with certainty. Possibly created that tool, for exactly those reasons. Second, they were utterly without conscience. Employing city-destroying godlike mages as tools to maintain power required that.

* * *

Someone had accidentally let slip Zafira was artificial. It would probably be impossible to determine who, and it had honestly been overlooked that this should probably not be said so no orders had been in place. That it was merely stupid as opposed to mutinous wasn't much comfort. Sufficiently advanced incompetence is indistinguishable from malice.

So now Hayate had to explain to the Earth types what a familiar was. "Who here, given the option for an absolutely loyal assistant to help with the paperwork, wouldn't take it?" There was a chuckle that ran around the room. "Familiars are artificial life, it's true, created by a mage. They were originally developed as bodyguards for mages like myself, who were powerful at a distance but not terribly good at close quarters. Hence the animal form. However," Zafira took his cue and shifted from wolf to his more human look, "there are times when being able to turn a doorknob is really helpful, so that didn't stay their only form for long. Over time they got smarter to better fight off human opponents, and as they got smarter they could do other things besides bodyguard. The bodyguard thing never really went away, and you will never find a familiar that isn't good at close-quarters combat, but a modern familiar is basically whatever its creator needs. A personal assistant to a CEO, a research aide to a professor, a babysitter to a parent."

"So are they property or what?" someone, they looked African but that didn't say much, asked. Zafira quirked an eyebrow at the person in question, as if to ask 'Do I _look_ like property?'

Hayate shook her head emphatically. "Absolutely not. Though they are created, a familiar is capable of reason and logic as well as anyone who was born. As such they have the same rights and responsibilities. Because they would rarely ever go against their creator certain allowances have to be made for that relationship, but they are not property."

At least Hayate didn't think their questions were silly. She'd had to ask them once herself.

* * *

Chrono had found other things for his hand-picked team to do. With the war officially on, the Bureau was cracking down on all those things they had previously regarded as minor annoyances in peacetime. It was not a good time to have come to the Bureau's attention as a dimensional criminal, black marketeer, or garden-variety bad person.

"Been here before." Bei observed, staring out the window at the world below.

"I remember." Samuel replied. His tone conveyed much more than his words. Regia had been his first serious action, seen two of the team he was part of killed. "I remember Lani too." The hard tone was something new for most of the rest. It even brought Sette's head around to regard him more closely.

He turned. They'd already had a formalized briefing, something of a luxury itself. "In and out fast. The locals don't like us and they _will_ try to kill us. They can too, if you let them. Don't get pinned down. If you do, call for recovery, don't try to break out."

A round of nods and a couple of "Yes sir"s, one from Sette, one from Galland, who immediately glared at Sette for echoing him. Samuel noted that and added it to his list of evidence the man apparently had a problem with Combat Cyborgs in general and the two gizmos on this team in particular. The rest of Team 70 actually regarded Sette and Tre with something akin to affection. Their usefulness proved, their willingness and ability to fight now beyond question, the team had taken to using the nickname the Navy had adopted for Combat Cyborgs as a proprietary term for _their_ Combat Cyborgs. These are _ours_, ours are better. Sentri had to pry her sectionmate, Veteran Mage Specialist Micheal Wittman, off of one of _Athra_'s crew for disparaging Sette. While a headache for her and for Samuel, it proved that the two cyborgs were now successfully integrated.

Galland was the holdout. He appeared to regard the whole friendly thing with great distaste, and it had started to color his reactions to other people on the team, not just Sette and Tre. Samuel was going to have to talk with him.

"Teleport in ten."

* * *

Regia had existed in a state of war as long as the Bureau had known of it. Officially Non-Administrated World #100, the planet had advanced technology and a rudimentary understanding of magic. Very advanced technology. Specifically, the kind of technology that could put holes in A-rank Barrier Jackets with sustained fire from a rifle.

The Bureau had _tried_ to negotiate a settlement between the various factions, about twenty-five years ago, as a prelude . It didn't work. The war on Regia had become the norm somehow, rather than a corruption of it. It was an _institution_ and Regia's nations could no more cease waging war on each other then they could stop collecting taxes. And the whole peace deal failure had left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.

So the villainous types ran to Regia. And Regia started to take them in, because that would upset the Bureau. And the Bureau was indeed upset, but Regia had not quite grasped the danger inherent in this. They did after ten Mage Teams were dropped on the capital of one the major powers to round up the villainous types in residence.

It was stupid, really. Even though they could sort of fight mages one-for-one, the greater firepower and unparalleled mobility of a flight mage in a city meant that the whole exercise had been bloody in the extreme. The Bureau absorbed fifteen wounded or dead and captured twenty-eight highly wanted criminals. The Regians absorbed hundreds of casualties and turned it into a propaganda victory that their leaders were quite aware was hollow.

But then thirteen years had passed, and they had forgotten the danger and sought the help of renegades from Bureau space again. And the Bureau had to clean it up again, before somebody managed to rip a hole in the fabric of reality that got too large to be fixed.

Tre was on point. She was more likely to survive it because she was tougher, and she was the fastest of them at ducking or dodging too. Her IS blades were folded in, the Inherent Equipment instead projecting the purplish sheathes of energy as gauntlets and boots. She was growing used to Invicta, even if she did find its personality a bit grating. For one thing, the Interface Device spoke Belkan. For another, it was enthusiastic like Wendi.

Regian weapons were ridiculously, stupidly loud in a confined space. Almost worse than that bomb she'd had to dodge on Earth. The noise itself was a weapon of sorts, something felt rather than properly heard, pounding at her ears even as the bullets missed the rapidly-evading Combat Cyborg. Very few people in the universe can dodge a bullet after it is fired at under twenty feet. About three, in fact; Fate Testarossa Harlaown, Signum, and Tre. It was something the Regians clearly had not expected.

In among them at close quarters in a heartbeat, lashing out in multiple directions with fists and feet. Behind her she heard the sound of the missed rounds hitting the shield Samuel had put up to protect himself since he lacked Tre's enhancements. It took her approximately ten seconds to incapacitate this batch of guards, seven of them by her count. She checked briefly if any of them were the targets, since the guards had been coming in groups of five until now. No, no targets here.

"Move up." Samuel said, having reached the same conclusion slightly faster, since he wasn't actively engaged in taking them down.

"Getting heavy out here Commander." That was Sentri, at the front entrance. "I'm seeing some kind of vehicles moving into position."

"Understood. Spike the street and recover." The dull roar of weapons outside cut off for a moment as Sentri and Wittman "spiked" the street, blowing large holes in the ground to prevent the passage of vehicles.

"C Section recovered safely." The calm of the voice of Athra's coordinator.

Ahead, a door. The first door they'd actually encountered in this bunkerish thing underneath what looked like an office building. Plenty of twists and turns and little sub-bunkers with a clear field of fire down a straightaway and a couple of turns running past to get to the back side, but no doors.

"Not going to be able to move that." Tre warned. It was steel, and large.

Samuel did not reply, leveling Steelheart at the door. The Device assessed the situation and selected a response. "**Interceptor. Shaped.**"

The deep blue magic packets impacted along the upper edge of the door, each taking a conical form just before impact, acting like a shaped charge. They blew deep craters, but failed to penetrate. Samuel's eyebrows raised. "Good door."

"**Interceptor. Shaped.**" Steelheart agreed. This set punched through, and Tre gave the door a hard kick. She flinched back, leaned into the door, and pushed hard. Roughly a ton and a half of steel groaned, resisted for ten seconds, and then fell in.

There was a scream and Samuel swore. Idiot had been standing near the door, hoping for the usual blowing it in with a beam attack so he'd get hit by a ton and a half of flying steel and claim the dubious moral victory of the Bureau killing him.

"_Athra_, three to recover, prep for seriously wounded case." Two broken legs. Actually, two completely crushed legs. The target would be lucky if they could be reconstructed.

* * *

"Sentri. What did you do?" Sentri had gotten injured without giving notice of the fact.

"I had half a ton of masonry fall on me, sir." Kate Sentri sounded somewhat resentful of that fact. "Their vehicles couldn't traverse turret fast enough to follow low-altitude flight so they tracked my course and passed a warning to a different unit. Which engaged the building I was passing in front of. There were civilians inside that building."

On one hand, quick thinking and successful application of unconventional tactics was something to respect in an opponent. Flight mages against ground-based units was vastly unequal in an urban environment. The flight mages were simply too mobile, able to move in nearly any direction they liked, where infantry needed doors, windows, or explosives and time, and armor was confined to streets. Using the urban setting against his team had been brilliant and unorthodox.

On the other hand, civilian casualties. No soldier of an industrialized, information-age state ever looks kindly upon civilian casualties. No soldier of any state looks kindly upon someone deliberately attacking _their own_ civilians. Whoever had given the order that had injured Kate Sentri might yet save themselves from prison or a firing squad if Sentri was believed dead, but it was unlikely that they would be able to completely save their career as well.

"Tre." The Combat Cyborg looked up. She had never developed a talent for concealing emotion, and looked rather listless. "Wasn't your fault. He was hoping we'd kill him by accident. You prevented that. He'll survive." Samuel then address the team as a whole. "Write up your reports. We'll finish debrief in three hours. Dismissed."

"Except Galland and Tre." Neither of them looked happy. Since their happiness was not the point of the exercise, that was fine with him. "Galland, do you want to tell me what your problem is?"

"Sir. No problem." Veteran Mage Specialist Rudolf Galland was almost convincing.

Samuel fixed him with Insufferable Officer's Stare #2. "You can lie to yourself. You can lie to your teammates, though it's a bad idea. However when you start lying to your CO under direct questioning, we have big trouble. You have issues with Sette and Tre. Explain them."

"Sir. Privately?" Galland replied.

"Not privately." Samuel replied.

"Sette and Tre killed my brother, sir. He was Air Force during the JS Incident." Galland paused, and Tre looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "Sir, I must respectfully request immediate relief of duty and transfer."


	21. Once More

Yes, Nanoha and Fate are together. I think I've said that before. But lots of people tell that story. I'm here to tell _other _stories.

**Once More**

A simple meeting engagement, Bureau ships feeling for a way to New Belkan space, New Belkan ships probably trying to do the same thing. Though the New Belkans ran for help, the Bureau ship soon found itself having to assist its ground teams in fighting off multiple groups of Rogue Wolkenritter and called for help as well.

And Chrono's Navy dream team was at the top of the list.

"_Uhlan_, Seventy, we have another group coming in, minus a ripper and a godling." The Bureau had finally got around to instituting some kind of codenames to distinguish the Rogues from the real deal. The ripper and the godling were Shamal and Reinforce respectively. Vita clones were "hammerer", a Signum clone was "swords", and the duplicate Zafira was "wolf".

"These ones are wearing black." Bei noted.

"Seventy, this is _Uhlan_. No support available. Engage and hold if you can."

"We're fucked, aren't we?" Carolyn said softly.

"We buy time and they get us help as fast as they can." Samuel replied. "B, C, and D sections, take the wolf. Hit and move."

"Sir. That leaves you and Tre to deal with two of them." Sentri pointed out.

"Then you'd better make it quick. Go." Samuel replied.

The Signum paused, just short of easy reach, and bowed to Samuel and Tre. "Ah. I hoped to meet you both, considering you have defeated some of our...lesser sisters. Allow me to introduce us. We are the Immortal Order. Death is meaningless. Defeat is temporary."

"But you still know pain, don't you? You're not a mad dog like your sister is." Samuel had never sounded so much like her father to Tre then at this exact moment. He spoke in nearly the same tone, the warm and friendly but not _quite_ patronizing one that Jail had used with friend and foe alike. "No, when someone hurts you, you still flinch. And if you know pain, then you know fear." Tre was afraid to look at him. She was afraid she'd see the expression her father had worn. Looking at the Signum clone was almost worse though. The blank expression actually formed into a smile a few seconds after Samuel finished speaking.

_Tre, take the hammerer._ The command was short, and Tre was grateful it was given telepathically. After his earlier tone, the cold void of combat was surprisingly reassuring. Jail would never have understood it or the need for it, after all.

Tre threw herself at the Vita clone, glad to be away from unpleasant reminders.

* * *

"Can't send you without Colonel Yagami. Special orders." The teleport operator was tense. Or perhaps just sane. Nobody _liked_ to contradict a Wolkenritter.

"Hayate is offworld. People are dying as we speak because I cannot help them. Unless you wish to be held responsible..." Signum let the threat hang. Much like she rather hoped whoever gave those special orders would eventually hang, lynched and left swinging from the nearest lamppost.

_Signum, you're creeping me out._ Agito warned from inside Unison. _You just crossed the line from concerned to psycho, get back on the other side right now._

"Look," Vita said, "do the smart thing. Save lives. Be the hero. Or be able to sleep at night. I don't really care. Right now all I know is there are people there that I'm the best person in the world to deal with and you are preventing me from doing my job."

Signum jerked her head up as someone else entered the room. "Uno. We are not allowed to teleport without Hayate."

"That's nonsense," the Combat Cyborg observed. She called up a holowindow and went to work. "Sorry, but I'm not letting you keep the best people we've got on the sidelines. You can tell your boss there was nothing you could do. Because it's quite true."

Decades of familiarity with Bureau technology made engaging the teleporter the work of a moment to the not-quite-Combat Cyborg.

* * *

"_Uhlan_, this is DT-Two. I have a partial team. Where do you need us?" Signum said to the holowindow she'd summoned.

"Head north. Team Twenty-Six and Ninety-Four took down a group of Rogue Wolkenritter but were chewed up. Team Seventy reports additional contact and requested support thirty seconds ago."

Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of combat against Wolkenritter, pale shadows though they may be. But Seventy was smart, lead well. They would use their advantages, to move and strike, to keep their distance. No, she could still save them.

It was to Signum's surprise she discovered the battle mostly won. The Zafira clone had not proved accommodating, and they had been forced to engage at close quarters to halt its advance. Galland, who had been read the riot act rather than transferred, was injured. Sette, who had saved his life by presenting the clone with what was in effect six perfectly coordinated opponents, was also injured but still able to fight.

Tre had defeated her own opponent, but her Inherent Equipment was damaged, erratic. She was not fit to fight another enemy at the same level, not when her weapon was behaving poorly. Uno had to talk her down from it anyways, for Samuel was still engaged.

Two minutes on, and still engaged. Still fighting a Signum clone. This one was better, too, and Signum could tell it. Not her equal, still a shadow, but not a pale shadow or a mad dog like the others had been. Skilled, even by Wolkenritter standards.

_Dame Signum. I've got this. _Still calm, the void holding despite being completely outmatched and knowing it. Samuel even seemed a little confident.

_Don't be a fool._ Brave, stupid, admirable nonetheless.

_I'll be fine. If she wanted me dead, it would have already happened._ There was truth to that, and Signum suspected she knew why. It would not have made sense to anyone else, perhaps, but to her...

_Call if you need me. _Signum replied. She could see dust rising on the horizon.

* * *

Many. Too many. Signum knew it, even as she plunged into the fray. Heads and hands and arms flew. Where she and Levantine went, enemies died. But not enough, not fast enough. There were hundreds, and she knew she could not kill them all.

At least, not before they killed her. But to retreat meant these enemies would overrun what was left of three depleted Mage Teams trying to tend to their wounded. Signum was not suicidal, but those men and women were hurt trying to buy time for her. Returning the favor was the least she could do.

She blocked a blade with her hand, feeling it go through, not letting herself wince as it stabbed through her palm and stuck there. She shrugged it off and ran her current opponent through, feeling blades score at her back, more injuries. She was acquiring quite a set. Sooner or later, one of them was going to matter.

"Major, this is _Nemesis_. We're thirty seconds to optimal range for secondary bombardment. Clear the field." A reprieve for now. Signum didn't bother to acknowledge, throwing all her energies into a direct vertical climb to clear the strike zone. She had been in the way of starship weapons before.

There are two main obstacles to starships in atmosphere. The first is that they are typically not very aerodynamic and have a huge wake from their huge surface area, with the passage of a starship at any speed near the ground kicking up debris. The second is that at about half of Mach 1, their wards begin to react to the air around the ship, making it even less aerodynamic and have an even larger wake...and stressing the wards. By the time a starship breaches the sound barrier, the stress on the ship's wards is significant enough to degrade their defenses if they have to fight.

The _Nemesis_ ignored both problems and charged in at somewhere past the sound barrier and barely a hundred meters off the ground, its wards flaring brilliant blue. It was reckless, stupid, but devastating. _Nemesis_ did not _have_ to fire, the shockwave of her passage was weapon enough. It tore the very ground up, hurled men and women through the air or smashed them flat like toys. Even Signum, accelerating skyward, well above the cruiser by the time it got there, clapped her hands to her ears in intense pain and tumbled out of control through the air.

At the same time she felt it, the pins and needles and scratching of a dimensional dislocation.

* * *

Tre and Sette both put their hands to their ears twenty kilometers away, trying to blot out a sound that they weren't actually hearing, something coming in over radio frequencies through their implants, a demented, insane shrieking that overwhelmed the built-in squelch for simple background noise or directed jamming. Tre went down on her knees, gritting her teeth, and rode out the thirty-five seconds of aural madness. Sette scrabbled for the implants, the simple things masquerading as hair decorations, and tore them out of their sockets regardless of the danger to her cybernetics and the blood from skin that had grown in around them. Not silence, the rolling boom of _Nemesis_' run reaching her ears and the sounds of battle nearby, but her hearing was her own again.

On the opposite horizon, more dust rose as Team Forty-Nine played cat and mouse with another group of Belkans. Tre scanned the sky, ignoring the cloud the _Nemesis_ had kicked up, and spotted her team leader falling from the sky. She darted in to catch him.

And she spotted another group of figures in the simple black tunics of the most recent set of Rogue Wolkenritter. "Sentri-"

"I see them. The Commander?" The team's 2IC sounded tired.

Tre checked her team leader. Samuel was unconscious at a glance, injured, bleeding badly. Missing fingers from his right hand, Steelheart held in a deathgrip in his left. It shouldn't be. He was right-handed.

"Unconscious, missing fingers, bleeding, his left foot's mangled." Tre wasn't entirely sure how you could _do_ what had happened to Samuel's foot using only a blade. "He needs a doc, right now."

"**Yes.**" Steelheart agreed, surprising Tre. The Device was normally a thing of few words. It didn't even speak when directly addressed usually.

"We can't take another wave." Bei said.

"I _know._" Sentri replied. "_Uhlan_, Team Seventy. Either we recover real quick or we're not leaving."

"Copy Seventy. Stand by. General withdrawal is in progress."

* * *

It had been a bad day to the end. Vita sported a bandage on her head from where she'd been hurt in the last few seconds before the teleport, holding off one of her twins. Treating a Wolkenritter's wounds with things like bandages shouldn't have worked, but for some reason basic first aid stuff actually _did_ have an effect on their healing, perhaps pure placebo but still an effect. The Iron Knight collapsed into a chair across from Signum, who was still being tended to by the doctors. "We can't do this."

Signum looked at the younger knight for a long moment, and then her head dropped, chin resting on her collarbone with a long sigh. Defeat was a sensation she had not confronted for a long time. Desperation, she remembered that well from when she had believed Hayate might die, but not defeat. "No. We cannot."

The two shared thoughts in silence through the Wolkenritter's link. The New Belkans had deployed their shock troops, the Rogue Wolkenritter, in number. There were simply too many of them. The Navy mages and their starship support had accounted for at least five groups, but there had been still more. They had circled and struck from multiple directions. They had used their numbers advantage the best way they could. Even if she and Vita had been there from the start, it would not have been enough. They could only fight one group of enemies at time, and if their enemies would not come at them in single groups...

"You seen Faddil?" Vita asked. She had gone to check up on her sometime sparring partner earlier.

"No." Signum replied. "I heard he was injured. Is it serious?"

"He'll live," to a Wolkenritter, at least, that was the important distinction. Anything that did not kill them outright, they would recover from in time. "But...well, he's off the active-duty roster. Even with standard cybernetics he'll be out for months while he relearns everything." The Bureau's cybernetics could replace a finger or a foot, almost as good as new. But unlike Jail's they lacked the innate sense of being able to tell where a body part was without looking, the literal _feel_ of a real bodypart. If you had to have a foot replaced, you had to relearn how to walk. If you had fingers replaced, you had to relearn how to write. Or how to handle a sword.

Signum shook her head. "Him and a dozen others. We cannot do this." The New Belkans and their reincarnating Wolkenritter, their hordes of low-rank artificial mages. The Bureau had barely three thousand active-duty flight mages, and might be able to scrounge up a thousand more if it tried. This engagement alone had killed seven, severely injured thirteen, and injured another twenty. And it would only, could only, get worse. "We cannot fight them all. Not like this, not on their terms."

"Nope." Vita agreed. "We can't."

* * *

"Should have been there." Nanoha mumbled to herself. She had been hospitalized, acute skin infection picked up from somewhere. It made it impossible for her to sleep except with sedation. She couldn't serve active duty like that. Fate reached out and placed her hands on her lover's shoulders, silently pulling Nanoha into a hug from behind.

Yuuno pointedly ignored the two, despite the pangs. It was getting easier, with time. So was combat. When he'd been young, combat had been the hardest thing in the world. Sometimes he wouldn't be able to sleep for days afterward. Now...now, he wasn't having nightmares anymore. It worried him, slightly. It also worried him that for the first time in his life, he was seriously contemplating what it might feel like to kill a man. Once the mere thought he would ever intentionally kill someone had been unthinkable.

"To a truly rational mind, no thought is unthinkable." Uno's voice, close by.

Once he would have jerked around, embarrassed to be caught thinking aloud. Now Yuuno turned more slowly. "Apologies. I shouldn't think aloud."

"You didn't actually think much if it was all aloud." Uno said. It was not quite playful; she could not manage a playful tone at the moment, the fault of a misaligned finger joint and considerable pain even with a hand gesture. Even she hadn't come off the battle totally well. She didn't intend to offend; actually respected Yuuno's mental competence in truth. "My apologies. A moment." She killed her pain receptors for a moment and placed her finger joint back in alignment.

Yuuno tried very hard not to stare. The Combat Cyborg could be downright weird, honestly. It went beyond socialization issues; Uno simply didn't _care_ if people saw her do things that normal people couldn't do. It was the exact opposite of the Wolkenritter, who never showed off, and somewhat difficult to adapt to. And honestly, it wasn't like anyone who saw him staring at Uno would assume it was because she was doing something Combat Cyborg-related unless they were paying attention. She wore the brown uniform well.

Yuuno shook it off and resolved to be more available. He could have made a difference there. Maybe not much of one, but a little difference. A few less injured, maybe even less dead. The Bureau needed that edge. And the people needed to come home still. He clung fiercely to that thought as proof that he retained his soul in spite of his growing comfort with combat.

Uno sighed, spotting a very angry-looking Headquarters officer pushing towards them. She suspected her little stunt of hacking the teleporter was about to backfire. "Uno." The cyborg turned around to confront Hayate.

"Ma'am." Uno's exact rank was in flux at the moment...and she was too valuable to be fired for not adhering perfectly to military discipline and she knew it. Still, Hayate was undoubtedly her superior even if everyone else was still a mystery.

Hayate grinned and clapped the taller Cyborg on the shoulder. "You did the right thing. Don't let anybody tell you different." Then Hayate moved off to confront the angry officer herself, spinning a story that Uno was following Hayate's orders by her actions. If somebody was getting court-martialed here, they'd better start with her. It was an effective gambit. The Bureau couldn't afford to court-martial Hayate.

Uno stared after Hayate for long moments, a little confused perhaps, but grateful. And pleased, somehow, to work with her. Jail would never have appreciated that sort of initiative or any transgression against his own orthodoxies, no matter how effective.

* * *

Signum had her own visit to make. "Commander." She started to make to salute.

"Do I look like I can return a salute?" Samuel asked, a touch of irritation in his tone as he waved a hand missing three fingers at her. His tone calmed, however. "What are you here for, Dame Signum?

"Curiosity." Signum replied, sitting down. "I believed you back there. Do you know why?"

"I can guess." Samuel replied. "But I'd rather hear it."

Signum leaned forward. "Have you ever tried something at which you were so good, there were no challengers? You could never be defeated? It was all simply automatic, no thought, no real _effort_, required?"

A momentary closure of his eyes. Samuel actually _considered_ the question, which surprised her. "No. At least, not to that degree. There have been things where I was good enough to not _need_ to make an effort, but I still made it simply because I was used to making an effort. I've never gone that far."

Signum actually smiled. It was not entirely friendly. The truth was that this particular smile had made children cry and sent strong men running before. It was a predator's smile, all teeth, no joy, a smile that flensed souls. It wasn't a smile you just smiled at _anyone_. They had to understand, or you had to want to scare them half to death.

Signum was oddly proud that Samuel fell into the category who seemed to understand. "The greatest gift in my life, Samuel, is to meet an opponent who forces me to actually _fight_, not merely go through long-remembered motions. To be _challenged_, to strive, to actually _struggle_ once again. It is the greatest feeling I know. So, you see, a truly worthy opponent is something I treasure more than anything else, something that makes this life worth the living. I would not ever kill one, not even on pain of my own death. I make exception for her and her ilk. They are not opponents to be respected, but mad dogs to be put down." Signum tilted her head slightly. "Still, I imagine she thinks much the same. How did you beat her?"

Samuel shook his head. "She might have thought the same. But I disabused her of the notion. She chopped up my foot and was despairing of me being any good, demanded to know how I won against two of her 'lesser sisters'. Had Steelheart pushed against me, was right up in my face too."

Signum raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Told her I cheated because I thought it would upset her. It did. Then Steelheart ups and fires a Deathblow at her." Samuel looked uncomfortable. "I caught hell for that from the admiral. Admiral Harlaown wanted to set me on fire and flush my ashes out an airlock. But...well, Steelheart's old, nearly seventy years." The older an Intelligent Device got, the more it developed _personality_. This could mean many things, and a seventy-year-old Intelligent Device could be a priceless companion or a psychotic wreck, but it always included a fierce, instinctive loyalty. That was why Intelligent Devices only grudgingly worked for anyone who was either not incredibly similar to their last master or a close relative. "The only man whose word Steelheart regards as utterly binding is my grandfather, and his orders were to protect his descendants no matter the cost. Steelheart took it literally."

Both eyebrows went up this time. "That's a fairly high level of autonomy for a Device. Particularly with something that dangerous." The Deathblow mechanism was a controlled dimensional dislocation. This series of words was inherently contradictory; the truth that the Deathblow _usually_ worked as advertised, meaning _not always_. The dislocation did not always appear in the correct place, and could sometimes grow quite large. "Also, doing that to her displays a fine sense of humor, and I appreciate it. But she will not forgive you for it."

"I figured as much." Samuel asked. "And yes, it's dangerous. How do you think I lost these fingers? Have to save what you can, I guess. This isn't how I pictured the end of my first command." Months off the line; they couldn't immobilize a whole team to wait for him. Team 70 would go to someone else and he'd get a new one when he was fit for duty again.

Signum shrugged. "How did you picture your first command ending, then?"

"With a lot less of me left. Something my grandfather said once. His only regret was that he let himself be promoted to Captain. He did a lot of good there, later as an admiral. But he saw too many times where a personal touch was needed, and he couldn't provide it. There are plenty of people who can command but can't be mages, but there aren't enough mages who can lead. I meant to get a Mage Team command and stay there until it killed me." Samuel replied.

It sounded terribly familiar. Fate had said something similar once, that she never wanted to be in a position where she did not daily see all those she was responsible for. Signum herself had lead small units for the Bureau on occasion. Higher command would probably be easy for her, but on the other hand...on the other hand, she wasn't just a person doing a job. She was the _only_ person who could do her job. There was no replacing Signum. Not so a Mage Team leader, not really. "You once told me that you got by on fatalism."

Samuel chuckled tiredly. "It's true. But just because I'm replaceable doesn't mean it would be easy. The Admiral didn't actually set me on fire and flush me out an airlock after all. You don't seem to have come out of that ruckus entirely intact." Minor understatement. Signum was in shirtsleeves, not her full uniform, and the bandages were visible where the undershirts didn't hang loosely. "You _aren't_ replaceable, so what's your excuse?"

Anyone else might have blushed, but Signum hadn't blushed in a time longer than most human reckoning. Signum would normally simply intimidate those who embarrassed her into silence, but...an exception, just this once. "You buy time for me, and I buy time for you. I pay my debts, Commander."

A nagging thought at the back of her mind. Something about promises made...


	22. Times Change

I have a feeling something is missing, here, but I can't figure out what. That's what has held this chapter back so long.

**Times Change**

"Commander." Admiral Leti Lowran said.

Samuel did his level best to come to attention and snap a salute while still using the crutch. His foot had been too badly mangled; they had to amputate it. Admiral Lowran tried to wave him down from his attempt, but it didn't take. Informality to a flag officer was simply not going to happen. "Ma'am."

Leti Lowran shook her head. Junior officers. "There has been an unusual offer made to the Bureau regarding...certain technologies. However it would require your participation and commitment. Probably permanently and irreversibly."

Short and scary. Still, the admiral asked, the admiral got. "I took the oath of service knowing it was permanent and irreversible too, Admiral."

It was not quite the answer she was hoping for. Honestly, Leti Lowran had hoped he'd be at least slightly intimidated. There were plenty of reasons to want to keep this particular can of worms shut and on the shelf at Uncertain Ramifications Bait & Tackle. But then, she knew his parents. His response had been predictable. She also recognized the implicit "please get to the point". "Jail Scaligetti has offered to assist the Bureau with cybernetics technology, provided you are the first recipient. Either enhanced versions of the normal prosthetics, or full Combat Cyborg conversion. We are undecided, but your participation would be required."

"He chose _me?_ Ma'am." Samuel didn't like this already, but on the other hand...on the other hand, this would save months of his time, and for everyone else who was badly injured in the service. At the least. The full-conversion option...well, that carried all sorts of things with it. It would require active thought to even begin to explore.

"You can ask him yourself if you want, Commander. Maybe he'll answer you."

* * *

"Did you do this?" Tre demanded of Uno.

"What?" Uno appeared genuinely confused. Of course, that may not have actually meant anything considering who her relatives were.

"Father is offering Combat Cyborg conversion to my team leader as a way to get around Bureau cybernetics and their faults." Tre leaned forward, invading her elder sister's personal space, and fixed Uno with a rather intense stare. "Did. You. Do. This."

Uno shook her head and took a step back. "No, Tre. I haven't even spoken to Father since he broke out and was re-incarcerated. Why does this upset you so much? I thought you might be pleased, to have a new brother. Perhaps brother-in-law, or husband?"

Tre glared murderously at Uno. "Have you ever talked with him? He thinks circles around me, just like Father could. He can match Father's exact tone if he wants. He's...memories, Uno. Not entirely pleasant ones. The next person who insinuates I'm romantically interested in him is going to have their head put through a bulkhead."

Uno noted that the Navy had started to affect Tre's vocabulary. Most people would have said "wall" instead of "bulkhead". "I can see why that would an...issue." Uno doubted the resemblance was as strong as Tre thought it was; the two looked nothing alike and Samuel had not struck her as particularly Jail-like. For one thing, he had loyalty to causes other than himself. "I would guess...Sette perhaps? She has actually spoken to Father."

"Well, I will too." Tre replied, spinning on one heel.

Uno wondered if Jail would survive this conversation. Or speak at any volume less than a scream. She sincerely hoped so, not so much for Jail but for Tre. The kind of brutality her anger promised would result in much unpleasantness for her.

* * *

"Why?" A demand. Not a question. Not a request. Tre had come a long way, Jail reflected. There was violence simmering behind her eyes, and for the first time in his life Jail believed there was a real possibility one of his daughters could do violence to him personally. Not at a distance, not to his servants or merely to ensure he was placed back in prison. Here, now, Jail saw a very real chance that Tre would attack him.

And Jail knew full well just what his daughters could do when they put their minds to violence. He was unarmed, unaugmented, unprotected completely. A normal human, separated from the highest-performance Combat Cyborg in existence by a little more than a meter. The table between them didn't even merit consideration as an obstacle to her. All it would take was one punch thrown like Tre meant it striking his head or torso and he would be beyond aid.. Death hovered close by, and it would be seeking him.

Jail would have to chose his words with exceptional care.

"Sette believed it would be something I could do to...improve things, for you, and for her. My options are rather limited here in prison. There are other, self-aggrandizing reasons, but it is primarily because Sette asked me that I considered this." Jail kept his tone calm, level, fought down his usual semi-friendly, semi-mocking tone. He suspected the usual tone would result in...unpleasantness.

"Let's hear those too, while you're at it." Not Tre's voice. She visibly stiffened at the sound of it, though, she clearly knew it even if Jail didn't. He looked over Tre's shoulder, compelled, even if he suspected that might be the dumbest thing he'd done in a very long time.

"Commander. A pleasure." Jail said. He'd never met the man or seen his picture, but knew his father in the way that bitter and constantly struggling enemies did. Captain Muhammad al-Faddil was the head of Naval Counterintelligence, a man both personally incorruptible and born to deviousness. Jail had learned both things the hard way. "Your father is well?"

"Yes. He sends his regards." There was more to that message than Samuel actually knew. Muhammad al-Faddil had sent his regards once before, moments before Jail had been nearly killed by the decompression of his current residence. The head of Naval Counterintelligence was giving a warning not to screw over his son. "However, for now, let's go back to failing to reject the null, that you do not care for your daughters."

Jail raised an eyebrow. "So you have some understanding of science? Good. Tre, you and your sisters are my greatest creations. I take immense pride in the mere fact you exist, and if you are destroyed that would be a great blow to my not-inconsiderable ego." Surprisingly candid of Jail, Samuel thought. Then again, with Tre sitting there staring Breaker attacks at her father, now was definitely the time for Jail to be candid.

Jail turned his head to address Samuel again. "Commander. You have shown both understanding towards my daughters, and some understanding of their...condition, what it means to them, and what it means in action. In the simplest terms, I would rather trust a man of proven ability rather than some random fool. You have also shown that you lead from the front, which means you will not carelessly or poorly risk my daughter's lives. That would mean carelessly and poorly risking your own."

"You don't actually trust me with them, do you?" Samuel observed.

"I do not, according to the Bureau, actually trust anyone. But you are infinitely preferable to leaving my daughters to the whims of random chance." Jail replied. "I presume you also want to know what it will do?"

"I want to know what you _say_ it will do." Samuel replied. Not hostile, not really. Samuel was going to see if what was said here matched up with what the Bureau said, and was informing Jail of this fact. Jail actually approved, truth be told; he did genuinely want someone intelligent, capable, to command his daughters.

"It is a slightly improved version of...well, actually, of yours, Tre." Jail had to address them both this time. "You were quite expensive at the time, Tre. Miniaturized components for the frame was not easy. But that was over two decades ago by now. It's much simpler, much cheaper, now. Could be mass-produced. It's a little stronger, a little faster, but the difference is under five percent and you could be refitted easily. In most respects, however, you will be as you were. You can continue to eat, sleep, drink, romance women if that features prominently in your activities. You could even still have children, if you desire." Samuel raised an eyebrow at that. Jail looked almost offended in response. "What are daughters without granddaughters? And more practically, what do you suppose happens when you describe the importance of love and parenthood and then deny the ability to experience it? I am many things, but I have never been a believer in the power of cruelty to create effective and loyal servants. Nor are you the first male cyborg I have contemplated."

Tre was somewhat surprised. She had wondered, more than once, why the Doctor had only created daughters and had been quite surprised when one of the new generation had turned out to be male. "The procedure is extensive. It must be risky." There was, perhaps, a note of desperation in her voice. She was not entirely sure she _wanted_ Samuel to be a Combat Cyborg.

"If the genetic enhancements take properly, then the procedure is nearly risk-free. Even without them, it would require mistakes on the part of those conducting it to be truly dangerous." Jail, very carefully, added a gentle chiding to his tone. "Come now Tre, I never lost one of you, or one of the new ones, performing it all alone. The Bureau will have a complete surgical team and much more equipment."

"I have yet to understand why I wouldn't need to learn how to use these improved abilities." Samuel observed.

"The implants know. No learning period is necessary because you are effectively given the knowledge with the enhancements." Jail shrugged. "You may recall I was in something of a hurry, last time."

"But not the immortality." Samuel observed. "I hope."

"You don't want to be immortal? Hmm. Well, no, not with this. Social implications." Jail said it as carefully as everything else, but Tre detected a shift in his tone that anyone who hadn't grown up with Jail would have missed.

"Not with this? What aren't you saying?" Tre had leaned forward, her hands just a few centimeters short of Jail's edge of the table.

Jail sighed. "My base that you all trashed. He was exposed. Possibly everyone who visited it before or during its dismantling too."

Samuel rocked back in his chair, his face gone blank and white in shock. He recovered in time to catch Tre's arm as it snaked out towards Jail's throat, causing Tre to freeze in place just short of grabbing her father and shaking him like a ragdoll.

* * *

"Is this true?" Chrono asked softly.

"We'd have to test for it, and if we do..." Amy replied.

"Test Hayate. Have Mariel Atenza do it, we can trust her. Test _only_ Hayate, and tell her why. I want all the materials recovered and all the reports filed classified as high as we can make them and prepared for immediate destruction. If Hayate's test comes back positive, we have to destroy it all." Chrono knew what he was about to do would see him heartily damned by future generations. He was going to destroy immortality.

But he had to. The implications, the social implications, the moral implications... This was the sort of thing that brought down societies. Now was not the time for this. And in his heart, he knew there might never be a time. Society wasn't set up to support immortality. The _universe_ wasn't set up to handle immortality. If people stopped dying, you still had to feed them. Population growth goes exponential rather than fractional, more people but not more resources. The search for immortality was the least practical and most dangerous of Jails' pursuits.

"Chrono." Amy said softly. "Stop and give the appearance of considering at least before we do something irreversible. This isn't wise. We lock it up and decide what to do with it after the war."

"There won't ever be a good time for this." Chrono replied.

"Chrono, I love you dearly, which is why I cannot let you do this. You would destroy yourself. The Bureau needs you. _I_ need you." Amy said softly, the gentlest tone of rebuke.

Chrono sighed. "That's not fair, you know." It had the sound of a man who knew he'd lost the argument. He was a Bureau man to the core, but he was still a man. There were some few things even he couldn't do.

* * *

Tre bunked in the same room as Samuel did. It was Bureau protocol; even off deployment, stationside, a Mage Team bunked by section. It didn't occur to Samuel that it was awkward to have a female sleep in the same room; the only reason Tre found it awkward was because she'd grown up with only sisters.

"Are you...okay?" Awkward question. It was one of the questions you should really never have to ask of your commanding officer.

"As well as I can be, considering my physical condition." Samuel replied. A pause of a moment or two and then he continued, shrugging. "It may sound a little silly, but...I'm twenty-seven, Tre. Immortality doesn't _matter_ right now. It doesn't actually change anything at this exact moment in time, and it won't really have an undeniable effect for another eight years or so. That's nearly a third of my life at this point. I'll worry about it when it means something to my life." He gave her a grim smile. "Besides, there's still plenty of time for somebody to kill me."

Tre shook her head at him. "Has it occurred to you that it's now a _certainty_ you will die violently?"

"It has." He gestured for Tre to sit, using the hand missing three fingers and pausing a moment to frown at that hand. Samuel had yet to come to terms with his loss, which was probably just as well considering it would be corrected soon. "That assumes I die at all. I'm not planning on it of course, but I didn't really intend to get hurt either."

Tre regarded him warily. "You have a habit of trying to throw yourself on someone's sword."

Samuel shook his head. "It's just people keep shoving swords at me." He reached over to his side and rearranged the top edge of his bunk's blankets. "That's the job, Tre. They pay us to run _towards_ danger. We're supposed to be smart about it, but sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes you have to throw yourself at the swordblade and hope for the best."

Tre nodded slowly. She wondered if this sort of dedication was...normal. Jail would never have expressed that particular sentiment, but he was equally dedicated to his own causes. "You still intend to go through with the conversion then."

A nod, and an expression of slight confusion. "I keep expecting someone to try and stop me, but it hasn't happened. My mother was strongly supportive of anything that keeps me on the line because she knows I want to be there, my father actually likes the idea of having a Combat Cyborg in the family I think." A pause. "And what about you, Tre?" he asked. "Do you think I should do this?"

Tre wasn't sure how to answer. She stalled for time. "What does the operation involve?"

"It's not simple." Samuel admitted. "Everything will take at least a week, and I'll spend that time in a medically induced coma. The Bureau docs agree risk of it all is fairly low, which makes sense. Jail performed it many times and never lost anyone, and he had far less in the way of backup or resources." It was only to Tre, who had adopted her father's last name, that Samuel would ever address Jail by his first name. "And so?"

Tre shook her head and appeared visibly distressed. It bothered her that she couldn't offer some kind of opinion. It bothered her more that she couldn't even come up with a suitable lie to try to dissuade him. "I can't tell you. I've always been a Combat Cyborg. It's all I know, all I can remember. I can't tell you if you'll change, how you'll change. Are you going to do it?"

Samuel nodded slowly. "This is...this is a gamechanger, Tre. Stronger, tougher, faster, smarter, back in action in hours instead of months after being seriously injured, . If the Bureau is going to win the war and if I am going to survive the war, then that edge is going to be needed. If I have to be the first, then I have to be the first. I'll do it."

"It could cost you." Tre replied. It seemed a little silly to try and stop him now. But she felt compelled to try. "It could kill you."

"It could kill a lot of other people if I don't. And I'll never be sure which ones were my fault." Samuel replied. "That's no way to live."

Tre decided it was perhaps time to quit while she was ahead.

* * *

Hayate's test had come back positive. Normal programmed cell death reactions not occurring; clinical immortality, though the exact means for dealing with all the side-effects escaped Bureau science. Whether Jail's method would fight the normal wear-and-tear that might eventually kill her anyways nobody but Jail himself knew. At the very least, Hayate's lifespan could now be measured reasonably in centuries rather than decades.

The Wolkenritter all knew already, of course. Hayate could have hid it from them, but she trusted her knights, her children, and they deserved to know. And it wasn't exactly news. The Wolkenritter, reconnected to the Book, were already once more immortal...though not in a hurry to test it. So, for that matter, was Rein. It had actually upset Shamal and Vita quite a bit that reconnected they would live on if Hayate died.

Of course there was the minor matter of who to...well, bequeath the Book to, in the event of her death. Hayate had never actually considered Nanoha, as surprising as that might sound. A good friend, a better fighter, but Nanoha's driving personality and love of combat were not the traits Hayate wished in the next person to look after the Wolkenritter. If not Nanoha, then also not Fate. It was unfortunate; Fate would have been a good choice, except for her partner. At the moment, Hayate thought Genya Nakajima was probably the best person she knew for the job.

Not that she intended to let him take it. Hayate had no intention of dying anytime soon, but she had learned the value of planning for the unexpected. She stepped off the temporary teleporter pad and looked around.

"Somebody thinks this place might be worth fighting for?" Vita asked. "This isn't even worth having a bar brawl over, much less an organized battle." They were in a tent, with one side rolled up to let them gaze out on a vista of grey rock and occasional short grass. The weather was warm-jacket and pants, not cold enough to actually bother a Barrier Jacketed mage. This was, however, the polar region of the planet; the equator was too hot for people to stay there unprotected.

"People lived here, once." Hayate reminded Vita.

"They were crazy." Vita replied. She was in her Barrier Jacket, Graf Eisen resting against her shoulder. Vita noted that the people around were not only in Navy uniform. The black longcoats were in evidence, but so were a number of Ground Forces utilities. And a black-and-green randomized checkerboard. Luthien troops, not Bureau. Each of them carried their service weapon in their hands, but on their backs were a couple of tube shapes each; disposable rocket launchers.

Like the Earthers had been, they were not entirely sure what to make of Vita. They were aware that the Bureau types treated her respectfully for the most part, but they had no idea _why_. The more observant ones typically picked up that she was some sort of bodyguard for Hayate. They also usually managed to deduce, from the way she watched her surroundings and responded to them that Vita was good at it. A _really_ sharp observer might realize that Vita was actually better at the job than Hayate would allow the junior Wolkenritter to carry out.

But Vita still looked like a child. It would have caused many of the Luthienese serious problems to know that Vita was actually older than their planet's recorded history. They _had_ realized, by now, that the Bureau's idea of age of majority was the point at which you became able to cast in a meaningful way.

At least with someone like Uno or Signum they knew how to respond. The two older-looking women came to attention and saluted, not because Hayate would stand on such protocol, but because of the audience. Hayate returned their salutes with an amused smile. "How are the Luthien types doing?"

"They're coping." Signum replied guardedly. Of the Wolkenritter she was the only one who had truly _welcomed_ her return to immortality. A chance to properly make amends for the past, not merely accomplish as much as she was able before her time ran out. Ten millenia to make up for was a heavy burden for one to bear in a single lifetime. Now she once again had eternity, and that was a much more reasonable possibility.

"Baby steps." Uno agreed. "They're hoping to be able to sit down with their Earther counterparts at some point."

_Hey, Uno. You know your dad is handing out Combat Cyborg tech now?_ Vita asked telepathically.

_Some of it yes. The highest-perfomance physically, but the least in terms of special abilities. I believe your sparring partner is to be the first of the new generation, and the last member of my family. I always wanted a brother._ There was a...triumphalism, to it, a sense that Uno considered this both an inevitable and a good.

Vita wasn't terribly surprised. A Combat Cyborg herself, why wouldn't Uno see the spread of the technology as a good thing? And maybe, if they were lucky, Uno would be right.

* * *

"Galland. You still want that transfer?" Samuel asked.

"I have reevaluated my opinions regarding Combat Cyborgs, sir. I have no interest in a transfer from this team." Galland replied. Changes. Samuel knew that Sette had saved Galland's life in the same action where Samuel himself had been injured. They weren't exactly hugging, but Galland had calmed down. Still stiff, but the sort of stiff that said "I am speaking to my superior officer" rather than the sort of the stiff that said "I hate you all".

"Commander, we're ready." Mariel Atenza was the Bureau's best technology expert. Her normal forte was Devices, but a specialty in Device work was really a specialty in _everything_, plus extradimensional mechanics.

"Aye aye, Doc." Mariel found his tendency to treat her as if she held actual military rank amusing. She was a civilian, after all. Samuel glanced at Tre. "Last chance to warn me this is going to suck."

Tre considered a few seconds, frowning. "The problem is, I really can't. Sir. Because I'm not equipped to say if it does."

"See you in about a week, then. Sentri, take care of people. I want my team back."


	23. Times Change 2

Since somebody asked last time, and had disabled the PM system so I couldn't tell them...immortality is rather strictly confined. The number could be as low as 15 or as high as 70, depending on which particular bit of Jail's stuff did it and when it was taken apart. For the purposes of this story, however, those people whose immortality matters are already known to the reader, if not necessarily to everyone to whom it will matter.  
I did not originally intend to bring real-world events into things, but frankly it was all too convenient to pass up.

**Times Change 2**

It was decidedly different, in a way he knew that he should not have been able to handle yet did. The human brain was not set up to process things this way, and he wondered, idly, if that paradox posed a psychological danger.

He doubted it.

In simplest terms, he saw the world in two different ways, two different images. One was visible light, normal vision. The other was infrared. He didn't have to ask what it was; he simply knew. The two images did not overlap; it was not as if he saw one with either eye. They were separate from each other and he saw them separately and not overlaid, like two different versions of eyesight though he was reasonably sure both views covered the same area.

"Commander?" Leti Lowran's voice. Recognition came easier now. Things seemed brighter, clearer, both sound and vision.

"Ma'am." Still, he was not eager to try moving just yet.

"How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly normal, ma'am." And that was the hell of it, wasn't it? He honestly didn't _feel_ different. He _knew_ he was different, the split vision and about a half-dozen other, minor things he was aware of now said so. But he didn't feel different. "Safe to stand?"

"Yes, Commander." That was Mariel Atenza.

Samuel al-Faddil got up. Slowly, carefully, though he didn't think it was necessary. He looked around. Leti Lowran, near the door. Mariel Atenza close in. And Fate Testarossa-Harlaown plus what had to be her familiar; to his mild annoyance, he realized he didn't know the familiar's name. Both of whom were in Barrier Jackets. "You weren't sure I would be me when I stood up, were you?"

"Scaligetti...had to assist directly, at one point. We didn't plan for that. Precautions had to be taken. We did manage to determine that any tampering done could not be complex enough to manifest later than now." Admiral Lowran was mildly apologetic.

"I understand, Admiral. It's not a problem." Samuel's eyes glanced back over at the familiar for long seconds.

"Is everything all right? You look like you've seen a ghost." The familiar opined. Arf was stretching a bit, since Samuel did not turn pale. But he was looking at her rather intently and it didn't seem like his interest was related to her bust size.

The reply utterly confused Arf. "I think that's fair. You look like you are a ghost."

* * *

"Sir." Rudolf Galland came to attention sharply.

"At ease." Chrono Harlaown replied, before Galland could start on a salute. Galland was probably on the verge of going frantic; enlisted personnel do not usually have to face flag-rank officers. "Galland. When I assigned you to this team, did you think I was unaware of what happened to your brother?"

"The thought crossed my mind. Sir." Galland replied warily.

"I knew. When I rebuilt Team Seventy I did so hoping to create a Mage Team able to fight Rogue Wolkenritter. I needed the best and the brightest. You were head and shoulders above your team at that time in every category. I worried about selecting you and the Combat Cyborgs for the same team. Ultimately, though, there was no one else I could find with your qualities." Chrono inclined his head slightly forward. "Did I make a mistake? Answer me truthfully, Veteran Mage Specialist."

"At the time, sir, I believe you did." Galland replied. "This is no longer strictly the case."

Chrono nodded slowly. "The Commander read you the riot act, did he?" Galland's situation had not been unique. The Bureau preferred to rehabilitate criminals wherever possible rather than incarcerate them. The usual method for mages to participate in the program was to undergo military training and then serve a term of active duty based on the recommendation of the judiciary. Only those who absolutely refused to cooperate or were judged mentally unfit did not participate somehow. Working harmoniously alongside people who had once tried to kill you was one of the conditions a servant of the Bureau lived under.

"Yes, sir." Galland replied. "He was correct, of course."

"And your current willingness to transfer from the team?" Chrono suspected it was high. He also suspected Galland would not admit that. Failure to live up to what was expected of you was a mortal insult in a small, elite arm like the Navy's mages.

"I go where the Navy says I'm needed, sir." Galland replied. "I can and will continue to work with this team but I will not oppose transfer orders."

Chrono favored him with a small smile. "Good man." Galland was the obvious choice to move out the team if he wanted to move someone else in.

* * *

No one watched, the first time in nearly eleven hours Samuel had been alone. Samuel was glad for that. This was something he did when he felt the need, and he had been putting it off longer than he thought wise. It was his time alone, his time to express the emotions he normally internalized for the greater good of his team. It was not simple, or easy. You had to work up to it. His first motions and attacks were normal, though quicker than usual. Samuel was quietly amused to note he could quantify how much quicker now.

_Hate._ The opponent was modeled after a specific person, usually, someone long dead and long forgotten to anyone save Samuel. Today, however, he had it specially altered to face the Immortal Order version of Signum. _This person is everything you are not. They are everything you have been taught to despise. They are everything cruel, evil, wicked. Hate._

It was twisted, perhaps, but in results and not means. People work themselves up for many activities. This was just one more thing you had to pysch yourself up for, like a wedding or a date, something you had to fortify yourself for, the dismissal of a friend, a funeral. _Hate. You can do it. You know you can do it. You've done it before, you know. You want to do it. Hate._

Even if the outcome was a flood of adrenaline to back unthinking rage. Lifted beyond himself, kicking and punching and stabbing in flurry too fast to be properly tracked by the human eye, pushing even his new Combat Cyborg enhancements to the limits of their performance. The first scream comes, a primal sound of rage and hate, leaving his throat raw.

Then suddenly the time limit is up, and his opponent is gone. And he is himself again, breathing hard, his pupils dilated, but not the enraged monster he was a moment before.

Odd. He didn't feel spent, the same way he used to. Cleansed, somehow, as he always has, but not tired. The Combat Cyborg implants at work, Samuel thought. A pity. He liked the tired feeling. It made this little exercise seem...safer, like he wouldn't be able to do it again anytime soon. Once upon a time that had been truly important to him, but now he was reasonably certain it was a mere psychological safety blanket; this didn't happen in the wrong place or time.

"Give me a hundred Combat Cyborgs and I will storm the gates of hell." It was a perfect replica of Jail's voice. Samuel turned slowly to confront the owner, who was fortunately not Jail, but Uno. "That was interesting, Brother." That was in her normal, properly feminine, tone. The fact she could replicate Jail's voice did not surprise him somehow.

"Brother?" Samuel asked. Calm. Not hoarse like usual either. Minor improvements to go with minor disappointments.

"Jail had a hand in your construction, which makes you as much brother as Tre is my sister. Though she might disagree." A pause. "I will not have many more opportunities to expand my family, you know." Uno said, fighting down a sheepish tone so it did not get out. On one hand, sheepish was one more blessed separation from Jail. On the other...

On the other, no one but Jail had ever made her feel sheepish before. She had come expecting to bring someone...into the family, perhaps, or under her wing. She had expected him to need a little guidance or reassurance. Instead, Samuel regarded her coldly.

Strange. He often showed warmth to Tre, a sort of semi-paternal affection that probably would have taken a more "friends" form except for the great differences in rank. Perhaps the somewhat paternal nature of Samuel's regard for Tre was what had lead her into equating him with Jail.

That did not explain why Uno was being looked at with a decidedly gimlet eye now. Uno was a little too inexperienced, socially, to recognize what she was looking at. She was an intruder into something that should not have been shared.

Into the uncomfortable silence came Agito. "You know, Sammy, you didn't have to go this far to avoid a Unison."

"I didn't." Samuel replied. "In fact, I could still Unison." Uno stared at him. He couldn't have an answer to that. _She_ didn't have an answer to that.

"Oh really?" Agito asked archly. "Stick out your hand then." Uno had a sense of unease, like she should be stopping this, but Samuel held out his hand calmly. Right about the time Uno lurched forward to stop them, Agito's hand made contact with Samuel's. "Unison in."

There was a momentary sense of vertigo and nausea, being in two places at once, a gibbering in the subconscious that for a nanosecond wanted to curl up and let madness take it while forgetting that going crazy is the job of the _conscious _mind.

_I thought this would be a little more...intimate._ Samuel observed. He could feel Agito, a blaze of heat and defiance, but this was no more invasive than telepathic contact.

_You and I don't know each other THAT well, Sammy. Next time maybe._ Agito replied. _That was pretty smooth, for a first time with a gender difference. Zest never had it that easy._

_Next time? _Samuel had developed a reflexive ignoring of the diminutive of his name somewhere; he did not even register it. Agito wrote that off as means to get a rise out of him. _Seriously? I thought you were just curious._

Agito paused a moment, and he could detect her thoughts working even if he couldn't actually know what they were. _You're...compatible. Very much so. It's my job, you know?_ It didn't have the total ring of truth, something was being held back, but it was true insofar as it went. _And honestly this is really different and sort of neat._

From the outside, it wasn't as flashy as Signum's Unison. The dark hair lightened to a brown; the black longcoat turned a neutral grey. No flaming wings. Instead, flame licked from his open hand, but disappeared when he closed it. "Faddil? Agito?"

Samuel turned his head to look at her again. "Here. Unharmed, no less." Uno noticed a...stereo effect, for lack of a better description; it was too subtle for the human ear to detect, but not for a Combat Cyborg. There were flames reflected in Samuel's eyes that did not exist in reality, and not in a simple, overlay sort of way; Uno's reflection itself appeared to be burning, which she found very unnerving.

"That shouldn't have worked." Uno said. "You took a terrible risk."

"I take terrible risks for a living." Samuel replied calmly. No stereo effect either. "But this wasn't a risk. I knew it would work; there are things that Scaligetti wouldn't tell even you, Uno." Agito caught the momentary flash of satisfaction at the way Uno recoiled, but Uno did not; could not. Keeping unwanted emotions from getting out was easier now too, Samuel thought. Almost no effort at all. It occurred to him what a gift he'd been given in that Tre had apparently never tried to do so.

"Cancel." Agito and himself, separate again. Now Uno could be reasonably sure only one of them was staring coldly at her now. She thought she had better leave and try again at some more opportune time. She passed Arf, who was apparently on the way in.

"Arf." Agito acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

"So that's your name." Samuel added. "Some was either very young or very silly."

Arf gave him an arch look. "You think I'm a ghost but don't know my name." She turned her head fractionally to address Agito. "I'm supposed to follow this guy around for a bit."

"If I knew your name, you'd seem less like a ghost." Samuel's tone was imminently reasonable. It did grow softer, however. "Unless you were named Lani."

"Someone special to you?" Arf had never been much for approaching an issue with tact.

"Very." Samuel gestured towards the door. "Well, if you're going to follow me around Arf, let's get started."

* * *

Teana Lanster stared at the man. "You know," she said conversationally, "you are a motherfucker. Sir." It was not the brightest thing to say to a general officer, but she was _angry._ She wanted combat duty. She _itched_ for it. The service and the cause to which she had dedicated her life was a laughingstock for its performance in action and she sought to redeem it through her skills. No other ground mage was more qualified to lead a platoon under fire, at least in Teana's mind. A staff assignment made absolutely no sense.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lieutenant." General Hans Luck was the new head of Ground Forces. In the Bureau's most politically charged service, he had vowed to attain his generalcy without playing politics. Luck had done it, too, but at the cost of having been rendered an outcast in his profession. Then came the attack on Cranagan, rapidly followed by the arrest of General Vult for treason.

When the going gets tough, someone had once said, they call for the sons of bitches. Hans Luck had never pretended he was anything but. He was a man who thumped on tables, who made demands, who would not hesitate to step on toes or sack anyone who wasn't up to the task. The qualities that had made him so undesirable in peacetime were exactly the ones that it was apparently believed would allow someone to revitalize a service reeling from too many blows to its structure and self-image. "Effective immediately you are assigned to First Regiment staff. Pack your bags."

* * *

First Regiment was something new. Ground Forces had not operated a unit higher than a battalion as a combat command in over seventy years. Any officer over the rank of lieutenant colonel was an administrator. No permanent units, units with a number rather than a provisional location, beyond battalion existed.

Ground Forces was shifting, straining at the bonds of the old conventions as Hans Luck tried to ready it to fight a war. First Regiment was a part of that, the first large-scale mage force assembled since the end of the Belkan Civil War. As such, there was really only one man who could have been tapped to command it, much as there was really only one man who had experience in commanding large-scale operations of ground mages.

Genya Nakajima waved Teana down before she could salute. "Please, Lieutenant. This is a working command. If everyone came to attention and saluted whenever I arrived in the room, nothing would get done. And frankly we don't have the time to waste. Our first deployment is already scheduled."

Teana looked blank. They hadn't even properly sorted out the table of organization yet that she could tell. "When?"

Genya did not reply, but instead summoned a holowindow for her. "When we're mostly done filling out that. I'd prefer being completely done, but I doubt I'll be able to stall that long. General Luck is eager to have us do something positive for the war effort."

Teana read the first three lines and felt faint. "Sir..."

Genya smiled. "Yes, Teana, I do have authority to show you that. In fact I have authority to show it to anyone I like. You see why I need a good tactical mind about now?"

"Where are they going to come from?" The holowindow said that First Regiment's table of organization and equipment was to include 36 Combat Cyborgs.

"The Bureau's first Combat Cyborg has been active..." Genya glanced at a clock, "approximately fifteen hours. I've already talked to a number of people about volunteering. Counting my daughters, we could have our first twenty in a week."

"This is serious." Teana was still trying to internalize it. The Bureau had admittedly never explicitly outlawed the creation of Combat Cyborgs. It had simply locked up the only person who knew how. But the research was restricted and it had become unofficially known that Mid's sun would burn out before the current Bureau Council granted an authorization. Then all of a sudden there's a war and suddenly the Bureau changes gears radically. "Volunteering you said?"

"At this point the only people who it's been authorized for are those who would otherwise be invalided from service, either temporarily or permanently." Genya replied. "Unfortunately, I happen to have a good-sized list from the attack on Cranagan."

* * *

"And now what?" Yuuno asked. He didn't feel he was needed here, and to be honest the crew of the _Shaula_ didn't either. But Nanoha, they supposed, had a right to see.

_Shaula_ hovered over the coast of Japan, not far from the reactor damaged in the recent earthquake and tsunami. The Bureau cruiser had been on station in Earth orbit when the disaster happened, and been on the scene quickly. Too quickly; they hadn't been able to get permission from the Japanese government to act for another two hours after arriving.

After that the cruiser had been a beehive of activity. None of the obstacles on the ground to the passage of emergency vehicles or people were worth the notice of _Shaula_'s teleporters. _Shaula_ had started her work in the remotest areas, using her onboard sensors to locate people, her mages to determine their condition, and her teleporters to bring the trapped and the injured to safety. The Bureau cruiser had saved hundreds of lives that might never have been reached by help in time otherwise.

Then _Shaula_ had stood by the damaged reactor. Eventually authorization there had come too, and _Shaula_ had teleported the reactor assemblies into her hold, smothering them with teleported seawater and setting up internal wards to contain anything nasty. Some of the ships' crew thought they might serve better around the Mediterranean, where a series of long-building popular rebellions were underway, exacerbated by the fact that aliens existed and existential angst over the fate of humanity in the wider universe was getting to be very much the _in_ thing.

"Now, Yuuno-kun," Nanoha replied, "we wait and see what else is required of us." Yuuno didn't flinch, though he wanted to. Things that never were shouldn't hold so much power over things that were actually happening, he thought sourly.

_Shaula_ was not currently parked over Tripoli ruining the day of the Libyan government because that would scare a great many powerful people out of their minds and probably spark twenty or more other rebellions, and the Bureau didn't really think that was a smart thing to do. Though many of them would have liked to anyways. Whereas there were people on Earth who might accept the necessity of using military force in situations where it could result in the death of civilians, the Bureau never would. In a very real sense, it could simply afford not to. The Bureau's options for the use of nonlethal force were more varied and vastly easier in comparison to those of Earthly forces.

There was also the minor matter that the Bureau's formative experience had been watching the Belkan Empire nearly wipe itself out. Total war, as always, came hard to those who had seen it practiced once.

* * *

"He was cute. Very serious, but cute." Arf said, grinning. "It's a pity male isn't your type, Fate. But maybe he likes girls with fuzzy ears?"

"Arf." Fate colored nicely.

"What?" Looking innocent was not something Arf's adult form was good at. Fate buried her face in her hands. At least when Arf was still in her younger form she hadn't expressed any form of sexual curiosity.


	24. To War

My class designations for battleship/cruiser slipped around a bit the first eight or so chapters when I was still extemporizing. I intend to go back and fix that (and some other minor mistakes). These are correct, however.

**To War**

"This is an awful plan." Yuuno opined.

"Any plan against these odds is probably awful." Zafira replied. Yuuno reluctantly nodded his assent to that point. They had one group of Wolkenritter, their opponents had many. Any sort of offensive action was subject to great risks. Though to be fair, this was still the least-risky plan. Letting the other guy figure out how many Wolkenritter groups he needed to win consistently and then apply that number over and over was a sure loser.

Hayate looked in askance at the two of them. "Gentlemen. Do you have something _constructive_ to say about the plan?"

"No ma'am." Yuuno replied, straight-faced. Hayate resisted the urge to say something rather mean. There were problems with commanding a group composed of your close friends.

"The Earthers are offering to send three ships." Zafira noted. "Has any consideration been given to using them for bombardment?"

Hayate tried very hard not to flinch at the suggestion. Yuuno tried very hard not to say something. Nanoha could not conceal her dismay. The wolf merely raised an eyebrow at them in response. "I'm not saying I _want_ to nuke them. I'm saying we should be prepared to if that's what it takes."

"We'll never get authorization for that." Hayate responded. "You _know_ that the stars will burn out and the universe will be reduced to a collection of supermassive black holes before the Bureau Council consents to the use of weapons of mass destruction against planetary targets." Hayate's tone made it perfectly clear she was quite happy with that state of affairs. Zafira raised his hands to waist level, held palm-out, to signal he'd surrendered the point.

"None of the three battalions that went into First Regiment have combat experience." Uno noted.

"They didn't want any of the ones from Cranagan. Clean slate for training them." Hayate replied. Left unstated was the uglier reason: a veteran infantryman, even among mages, is one who knows enough to be afraid. The ground mages who had fought the Rogue Wolkenritter in Cranagan had no reason to believe they'd survive a second encounter. "Detailed pre-assault planning just isn't possible without recon, and that might tip our hand. The staff officers will have to earn their pay on-site."

That made Hayate, one of the few people in the room who'd commanded units equivalent to her actual rank, rather unhappy. Good staff work and good intelligence saved lives and made operations easy. Neither was possible here.

* * *

Military attaches are polite spies. It is a truism as old as the concept of the post. They are rarely called upon to engage in actual cloak-and-dagger work, frequently never. But their job, distilled, is to report on the equipment, training, personnel, and readiness of their hosts. That this is often cloaked in good intentions and cooperation does not change the fact that information vital to any attempt to fight is gained via the post.

On the other hand, it can also be used for scaring people out of their wits, such as allowing people to watch a Wolkenritter training session. They could dispose of a conventional army in perhaps an hour, and it was immediately obvious to the new attaches from Earth. The Wolkenritter were used to be watched, but the context was new and different. And that didn't mean they enjoyed being watched.

Shamal glanced sideways at Zafira and dark thoughts drifted over the mental link. The others envied Zafira, truth be told. As a wolf, he could opt out of things. He could play the silence card and simply fade into the background, barely noticed after awhile.

Being the wolf had been Zafira's refuge. Despite the rumors and perceptions of others, Hayate didn't habitually surround herself with lesbians. For one thing, Hayate herself was at least as apt to show interest in men, but they tended to react more badly. There were more than a few men about, and about as far as every female but Nanoha and Fate went was _preference undecided_, and Zafira...

He wasn't unaware that he cut a very attractive figure in uniform. He wasn't unaware that women stared at him. He wasn't unaware that more then a few women and even some men thought he'd be great fun in bed. But Zafira could opt out. He could be the silent wolf. Carry no expectations, draw no attention save fright sometimes. Eventually, if he was quiet enough, he was almost part of the furniture. Large, toothy, best not sat upon, but just furniture.

They all had their own defenses to deflect unwanted attention, at least when let out of their Barrier Jackets. Shamal still had her labcoat, stubbornly clinging to the persona of just another helpful, anonymous doctor despite being assigned combat duty. Signum had her uniform, into which she disappeared so completely that people were hard-pressed to locate some trace of the woman inside it rather the TSAB major whom it belonged to. Vita had her apparent age, and should someone realize it was merely an apparent age, she also had her all too adult temper.

But only Zafira could completely opt out. And they envied him that.

* * *

Embarkation is a ritual as old as going to war in ships. Everyone was required to take the regulation grey t-shirt and pants for sleepwear, three pairs, and the regulation four pairs underwear and socks. They also did have their regular uniforms, and wore them currently, but they were only taken in case of a full-dress situation, requiring the wearing of their medals. You couldn't pin something on a Barrier Jacket. All their other equipment, which would have easily taken up as much space as the people themselves in another form, was bound up in Barrier Jacket and Device. Convenient, small, portable, and rendering most changes of clothing moot, those two things had simplified logistics for the Bureau incredibly.

Tre fidgeted. Not out of nervousness; out of shame. The Bureau had, in the fullness of time, gotten around to making a decoration for killing a Wolkenritter. As a reflection of both great personal bravery simply to get in a fight with one, and great luck or skill to defeat one without being a Wolkenritter oneself, it was hard to argue that it was not the sort of thing for which a decoration should be awarded.

Tre had been one of the first recipients, of course. It was not that she had not earned the right to the medal. Even she could not dispute that. It was that it made people treat her differently. They _respected_ her because of a bit of metal and a ribbon. She'd probably tried to kill some of them.

_Sister?_ Sette asked, over their private radios.

Tre waved her off. _Nothing, Sette._

_Not polite._ Tre was visibly startled by the interjection, and Sette's eyes widened slightly.

_Apologies, sir._ Sette replied. They'd forgotten Samuel could listen to these conversations too now.

A faint smile from their team leader. _It was meant for Tre. Not nothing. Not polite. My apologies for the interruption, though._

Tre checked he wasn't looking her way, then shivered.

A ripple ran through the room, a subtle straightening of backs and checking of uniforms to indicate that someone was present of higher rank than the many Mage Commanders of the twenty-odd teams waiting to embark. Chrono, Amy, and Captain Leander of _Circe _made their way down the line, stopping here and there briefly to speak with someone.

It wasn't a formalized inspection, but it served the same purpose to Chrono. It was a chance to get out and gauge the mood and the readiness of his people. He paused opposite Samuel. "Commander. Great things are expected of you and your people."

"Sir. Looking forward to making them a reality." Samuel replied. Chrono favored him with a tight smile. He was actually vaguely fond of the man, in much the same way a craftsman might be vaguely fond of a trusted tool. Men and women who got the job done were valuable to a commander in much the same fashion.

Then it was time to board the ships.

* * *

Twenty-one white hulls glinted in the sunlight over Midchilda. Every class of warship currently in Bureau service was represented. _Athra_ was there, once again under the command of Lindy Harlaown to hold the banner of the old L-class ships high. A half-dozen of the new N-class cruisers were there to round out Lindy's new command, Cruiser Squadron Four. Another seven ships, all N-class, under a younger admiral named Mbuto, Cruiser Squadron Twenty.

Three K-class battleships, Battleship Squadron Two, old ships with long histories. Like all of the Bureau's heavy-ship squadrons, BatRon 2 had originally had four ships. The fourth had been Clyde Harlaown's _Hestia, _never replaced after it had been lost while transporting the Book of Darkness. Rounding out the battleship force, four of the new M-class as well, lead by Chrono Harlaown's _Circe_. The M-class ships were not part of the squadron hierarchy; they had been intended to slotted in to replace existing K-class ships before the war put any retirements of ships or personnel on hold.

"This will be quite a change." Lindy Harlaown had a holowindow in front of her, speaking to her son. "Odd as it may sound, I'm proud we came to this." Lindy then drew herself up to attention and saluted. "Cruiser Squadron Four is fully at your command, Admiral Harlaown."

Chrono spared a rare smile for his mother as he returned the salute. "Thank you, Admiral Harlaown." He looked down to _Circe_'s captain. "Signal to all ships, jump prep. We move as scheduled."

* * *

"Contacts, multiple contacts, multiple vectors!"

"_Right full!"_

_Circe_'s helmsman jammed the ship into a hard right turn to evade a Belkan War Cruiser. The ship's gunners opened fire. Chrono watched the command hologram fill in rapidly. His fleet had jumped into the middle of a hostile one. He noted, almost dispassionately, that the K-class _Titania _had struck a glancing blow to one of Belkans. _Titania_'s wards had held, barely, but the New Belkan's had not. The Bureau ship's secondary batteries tore the New Belkan apart with a brief burst of fire.

All his ships were fighting, reacting without orders. Chrono felt a brief moment of pride, but didn't reflect on the high level of training and ability at work. "Signal to _Titania_, jump off and cool her wards." Like all starships, without its wards _Titania_ would be torn to shreds in moments.

"_Titania_ complying." Amy reported.

_Circe_'s secondary batteries lashed out in three different directions, engaging four different New Belkan ships as she came about again to bring her main guns on target.

* * *

Lindy Harlaown took one look at her own command hologram and nodded. "Arc-En-Ciel release, rapid fire." She took out the key, and turned it in the interlock, left instead of right.

"Rapid fire, aye." The command had never been given before in reality. A normal Arc-En-Ciel shot took time and was unwieldy for starship combat except at great ranges. This was absolutely intentional, allowing for the ability to close in and overwhelm any Arc-equipped ship in close combat should ever one of them go rogue.

But it could be made to perform in a different mode, with the correct key. Lindy Harlaown held the only such key in existence at this moment, which was itself code-locked to respond only when held by her, by fingerprints and DNA both. This first move could not be allowed to fail, and Lindy had been given the means to make sure, though she'd not been allowed to even tell Chrono.

_Athra_'s hull vibrated as the Arc fired its first shot.

* * *

"_Athra_ firing Arc-en-Ciel!" Amy sounded surprised. She wasn't cleared for the knowledge that the Arc had a rapid-fire mode.

"Bloody hell," the observer from the Royal Navy said, watching _Athra'_s single shot completely erase a ship whose sister had taken over three hundred and fifty megatons of nuclear ordnance to simply damage. Badly damage, but it had still been recognizable.

Chrono allowed himself a tight smile. _So they did give it to you, mother. _"Captain, status?"

"Fourteen enemy units remain active." Amy replied. A red shape blinked out as _Athra_ got her nose on an unsuspecting War Cruiser. Rapid fire from the K-class _Morrigan_'s main gunand a couple of cruisers converged on another War Cruiser for several seconds, and it went up in a ball of fire. "Correction, twelve."

There was a degree of unreality to the situation for the observers from Earth and Luthien. They were aboard a ship engaged in radical, high-speed maneuvering and a serious gunfight to boot. But there was no noise, the deck didn't tilt, the ship didn't shudder. If not for the sweep of the forward viewport and the tactical holos, the stream of information and commands passing back and forth, it would have been impossible to tell they were in combat.

"Lost contact with _Caph_. Her wards are down" Amy noted. Chrono glanced towards that area of the engagement. The icon for the _Caph_ was blinking, but the _Shaula _had already moved in front of it to block enemy fire. The nearest enemy ship lit up with a primary target command from Mbuto to his cruiser squadron. Chrono himself tagged the next-nearest for attention from _Athra_.

His opponents were not fools, nor were they cowards. Chrono could see as surely as if he stood next to his opposite number the effort to organize and fight back. But that was in itself a mistake. The first priority was always to put fire upon the enemy, to rock them back on their heels, deny them their momentum. You start fighting back first. Organization is accomplished after this, and without prejudice to it.

Were his opponent's tactics schooled by easy battles, as the Belkan Empire they named themselves after had been? Were they unused to starship combat? Had they simply made a bad call? The evidence in front of him would support all three possibilities.

Chrono gave no more orders, and felt none were needed. His cruisers and battleships were performing well without them. It would be a mistake to interrupt them, and combat was a brutally Darwinian process that brooked no mistakes and suffered no failures. In this sort of close-range melee, victory and defeat rested in the hands of his captains and his gunners. And, Chrono allowed himself a tight smile, in the numerical superiority and heavy ships he'd brought.

It was over in three more minutes.

"_Caph_ is badly damaged. All other ships report various levels of ward damages but no physical damage." Amy reported. "Detecting a couple of other starships in low orbit. They may not be combatants, they haven't moved to engage and they don't seem to be running active scans."

Now Chrono had something to do. "Flush wards. Cruiser Squadron Four to corral the two enemy ships in low orbit. If noncombatants and practical, try to capture. Otherwise destroy. All other ships spread out to double standard combat distance and scan the planet." He turned to a runner. "Ask Colonel Nakajima to join me on the bridge."

* * *

"We've identified twenty possible installations. I know you don't have the combat power to cover them all so I'm already sending ships to some of the more remote ones to get rid of them the messy way." Chrono said, gesturing to the command hologram, currently displaying a map of the planet the ship was orbiting.

"Teleport nexus?" Genya asked. Denying the ability to stage in reinforcements instantly was of great importance.

Chrono offered a slightly uncomfortable shrug. "Not sure. We haven't detected any teleport activity. However, one of the installations, the largest, put up a teleport jamming field as soon as we made orbit, so we can make a good guess." He waved a hand and summoned up a closer view of said facility.

It was a collection of nondescript grey buildings, three and four stories high at the center, one everywhere else. Genya's eye noted the careful placement for interlocking fields of fire, the design that permitted no avenue of advance that could not be covered.

He also noted that a large area around the complex had been cleared out to one kilometer. No trees, bushes, not even tall grass. And made flat. Perfectly flat. No variation in height greater than a couple centimeters.

And bunkers at the edge of the buildings. Bunkers with a great thickness of dirt, still one of the most resilient materials known, covering them. Bunkers that, unless his opponent was a total fool, must hold railguns.

"A lot of effort went into this area." Genya said softly. "And it was not wasted. A direct assault will be costly, perhaps impossible, without calling in enough starship fire to blast it all to ruins."

Chrono frowned. "It's the largest complex on the planet that could be military. If what we want is anywhere, it will be here."

Genya shook his head. "Admiral, believe me when I say that I would prefer to Arc this complex rather than assault it. It will take a lot of time and cost me many casualties. My command would be gutted, and the enemy would still hold the complex."

Amy spoke up at that point. "We do have flight mages. We could get in among them quickly."

"They'll have flight mages too." Genya replied. "But that would be a great help."

"They won't have Wolkenritter." Hayate said, arriving. "Or if they do, mine will make short work of theirs."

* * *

The whirling madness of mass flight mage combat swirled about the cruiser _Shaula_ overhead, at about two thousand meters Hayate judged. Below, First Regiment appeared to be making good progress against the delaying force sent out beyond the edge of the cleared area. That just left one thing, trying to sneak in under the flight mages, a small group of Wolkenritter in the black, form-fitting outfits of the Immortal Order.

"Uno? Don't bother with just one group. We'll do it the old-fashioned way." Hayate said. Then, over her link to her knights: _On me. We're dealing with these ones._ Only Signum bothered to consciously acknowledge, but Hayate could tell they had all heard and would comply.

* * *

It was strange, and perhaps a little frightening. To be a Combat Cyborg, Samuel was finding, was to feel, for the first time in your life, truly alive. Everything was bright and sharp and clear. Normal people with normal, imperfect memories got worn down by an assumed sameness from moment to moment, day to day, a sameness that did not really exist. Nothing is ever _perfectly_ identical. As a Combat Cyborg he had the drive to study his surroundings and the perfect memory to defeat the perception of sameness. Everything, always, seemed new and different, seemed alive.

And a Combat Cyborg on a large battlefield was perhaps the most alive of all, performing far beyond human limits as they process and act upon more data than a human can ever hope to successfully comprehend at one time. Situational awareness was the lifeblood of aerial combat, and he had more of it than nearly anyone else currently engaged.

It was stupidly easy, really. He had twenty opponents to his credit, either badly hurt and running for their lives or falling dead from the sky, one every five seconds. He could look around, track the relative positions of all two hundred plus mages currently involved in this little dogfight, and easily select a target who was too busy trying to fight someone else to realize that Samuel was about to ruin their day. Tre, despite her job watching to make sure no one did the same to Samuel, had managed to take down ten, and Sette was currently tearing through the New Belkan flight mages with her multiple weapons, matching and possibly exceeding Samuel's total. He was deliberately not paying attention to Sette's score, preserving mental processing power in case he needed it.

The three of them were having an impact on the battle out of all proportion, accounting for at least three quarters of the casualties the New Belkan flight mages had sustained in the slightly less than two minutes since the merge. It was then that Samuel noted someone trying to sneak through below the level of the general engagement. _Tre, we're going to jump those Wolkenritter, knock them off balance. If they notice you before you hit them, break off and climb back towards _Shaula_, understand?_

Tre's mind no longer felt so timid as it had before, but she still gave the impression of wariness, like a cornered animal. It was just as well Samuel didn't know she only responded that way in telepathy to him. _Aye aye._

The wind roared past him, despite the flight barrier, whipping his hair about. None of the Immortal Order types were looking up and backward, instead jockeying around a bit, looking for position against someone else. Stay dumb, Samuel thought. Five seconds to contact. He had originally meant to take a passing swipe at the Zafira, but he had moved enough that it was easier to try for the Signum. To his left, Tre selected the Shamal for her own attack.

Someone must have warned the Immortal Order Signum at the last second. She spun around and brought her false Levantine up to try and parry his rush, but there was too much momentum involved. They both tumbled out of control from the collision, though Samuel was at least able to influence his course a bit.

By the time he'd recovered, the fight was over, with the real Signum having slipped into the opening thus provided and disposed of her double. _Tre?_

_Got her. Down in one pass._ Tre did not take any sort of satisfaction in her success, Samuel noted. Tre looked up and watched as half the sky disappeared for a moment behind a wash of black as Hayate took her first shot at fighting a Reinforce clone personally. _I think getting back to the fight will be hard_.

_We'll just have to see if the Groundies can use us._ Samuel replied.

* * *

They could. Even with the Combat Cyborgs reinforcing First Regiment, the skill of this complex's builders had not been wasted, and the railguns were keeping the Bureau troops away. _Shaula_ could have changed this in a moment, but her sightlines were hopelessly fouled by the dogfight around her.

The railguns, manually aimed, could not engage a flight mage in the open sky. They simply couldn't move and react fast enough to deal with man-sized supersonic target with all that room to maneuver. But the same speed meant that it was difficult to engage discreet targets on the ground.

Genya Nakajima glanced at his comms specialist. "Get me the Admiral."

* * *

Far above, _Morrigan_ shut down her main battery, reinforced her wards, oriented downward, and dove straight at the atmosphere. Her wards immediately began to flare a deep blue as flame curled past them. This was not how Bureau ships made planetfall. They moved in slowly, not the barely-controlled crashing of other methods of deorbit. But _Morrigan_ was needed quickly, and she _could_ do this, so it was done.

* * *

A god came down from the sky, wreathed in flames, announcing its displeasure with the roar of endless thunder and the flash of lightning. _Morrigan_'s first volley, at five thousand meters altitude, wrecked the ground defenses. _Shaula_ might not have been able to fire, but it could locate targets precisely for the other ship. The bombardment continued, tearing up the bunkers and the ground around them, obscuring the sight lines from the buildings with a rain of fire and a cloud of dirt.

Genya nodded to himself and signaled the advance to his unit commanders.

* * *

"Admiral." Samuel nodded rather than come to attention or salute. Field procedure; no sense pointing out who was in command to anyone hostile who might be watching. Privately, he wondered why Chrono was even on the ground yet. The operation was theoretically in mop-up phase, with major installations taken or destroyed, but they had no clue how heavily defended the planet was or what its defenders had been doing when doom came from the skies. There could still be twenty thousand hostile mages under an illusion behind the next hill and nobody would have a clue.

"Commander. You fulfilled the expectations on you. But the day isn't over yet." Chrono waved a map holo into existence. "You'll be headed here. Cruiser support is en route but may not arrive with you. Four teams. Tactical command is Team Twenty's."

Team Twenty, Commander Shapiro. Samuel had never served with her but knew Shapiro by reputation to be a careful, conscientious leader. "Aye aye, sir."

Transit was not eventful, though he noted, as he passed over a city, that no one was on the streets. Not even police or similar, no cars either. Where were the people? Had they attacked a world that had been depopulated for some reason? And if they had, how had it been done? There were no signs it had been by force of arms. Everything was intact and reasonably clean.

He put the thought out of his mind. It could only end in paranoia, and he did not need the distraction. "Section spacing double." The formation of eight black longcoated mages spread out further, twice the normal fifty meters tactical spacing between pairs.

"You worried, Seventy?" Command channel. Must be Shapiro's voice. There was something odd about hearing, but no longer actually _hearing_, radio.

"Dislike going in blind." Samuel replied. Switching channels was a lot easier now, though.

Then the world seemed to explode into flames.

* * *

"Seventy, A One. Sound off." His eyes weren't adapting well enough, he still couldn't see very well in visual after that flash, though the infrared worked. Samuel made a mental note to discuss that problem with Mariel Atenza when he saw her next.

"A Two. Fit." Tre, she sounded okay. Samuel blessed the upgrades that allowed proper voice transmission rather than the old flat, emotionless tone. Little things, little things that make so much of a difference for the peace of mind of an officer.

"B Two, fit. B One is down, mobile, not able to raise on radio. Will advise." Sette's voice. Momentary spark of concern. Bei was an old friend.

"C One, flashburned my fingers. C Two got burned bad sir, already called her recovery." Galland, peculiar flat tone of someone making a conscious effort at control. He didn't sound like he was hurt, to his credit. Carolyn might be hurt bad or might not. If she was still breathing when a medic got to her, though, then she would survive.

"D One. Flashburns. Good to go." Sentri, not doing well. Croaking, almost. Still, if she said she was good to go, she was too experienced to do something terribly stupid. Probably.

"D Two. Fit." Veteran Mage Specialist Micheal Wittman. A pause, then an uncomfortable continuation. "Sir, D One is not fit. Her face is flashburned."

"Go to ground, people." Samuel turned his head to look at Sentri. Her face was flashburned. Badly. "Dammit, Sentri, don't tell me you're fine when you aren't. Can you even see?"

"Sir-" Sentri began, but Samuel had already made up his mind.

"Forget it. You're not fit." He called up a holowindow. "Seventy to Control, recover D Section leader due to flashburns."

"Understood Commander, recovery underway." He was surprised, but somewhat gratified, to note that Amy herself handled this call. "Just recovered both your casualties, they're being taken care of."

"Thank you, Control. Seventy out."

"B One lost his earpiece but is unhurt." Sette reported. One minor blessing. Bei must have just let himself drop to get out of the way and mistimed his moment to turn the flight back on.

"Seventy, this is Thirty-Two, do you copy?" A new voice on the command channel. Not a good sign. Shapiro should be asking after his team. Shapiro should have asked after his team already, in fact. This was definitely not a good sign.

And then, there was who could have generated a flame attack like that. Pretty much only one person. And only if she had a Unison with her.

Now there was a thought to go "oh shit" to, Samuel thought to himself.

* * *

"Major discharge." Teana noted. "Hundred kilometers from our operations area, though."

"Not far for supersonic flight." Genya replied, glancing up from his tactical holo. "Tell me everything, Lieutenant."

"Not much to tell yet sir, no direct line of sight from any observing asset we can pull data from. Some Navy mages in the area, though." Teana replied.

"Keep an eye on it, Lieutenant." Genya replied.

* * *

"You again." The voice of the black-clad Signum was flat, giving away none of the emotion the words should probably have carried. "You annoy me."

"So you're the same one as the last time?" Samuel asked, his own tone equally flat. "Or is this some one-therefore-all?" A fishing expedition, pure and simple; trying to get information that might be of tactical or strategic use. If this _was_ the same Immortal Order Signum, either there was a teleport nexus that needed destroying or she was coming back here and whatever was allowing that needed to be subjected to starship bombardment right now.

No response to his question, simply a downwards strike with her copy Levantine. She was tired, or deliberately slow; the only hope of a normal human would have been to block or parry in any case, but Samuel did not bother. He sidestepped it, faster than she had chosen to move. The mistake almost cost the Immortal Order Signum the fight.

Steelheart slammed into her chest. An unaugmented human would probably have only done it once, but a Combat Cyborg with orders for lethal force wouldn't stop short of definitive destruction. Three complete run-throughs later the false Levantine came up and Samuel had to stop to defend himself. He noted, dispassionately, that he should have learned the lesson of the first time he'd fought a Signum clone: simple stabbing was not effective, it took massive trauma. A blast would do it, if he could make contact again.

"**Interceptor Shift.**" Steelheart intoned. The packet attacks battered the Signum clone while Samuel moved up and away. No sense in keeping the fight private. She came after him, a frown on her face that, if she was anything like the real Signum, indicated something similar to homicidal rage in most people.

Samuel had a sinking feeling that getting stabbed in the chest multiple times had only pissed her off. _Tre?_

_Busy, _came the reply. So was Sette. No help to be had. He wouldn't have dragged an unenhanced human into this fight; it would only kill them.

"A One, second hostile headed your way!" Galland's voice. Samuel's eyes widened fractionally, something it would have been difficult to spot from more than a meter. A second Wolkenritter would make this go very fast, and very badly. Still, he might have a little bit of a chance thanks to the enhancements, if he was really as fast as Tre now.

No moment like the present. He hadn't had a convenient moment and a convenient place to test this. Climb to three kilometers, dive to two, weave, at a low-hypersonic speed regime that would be a danger to most mages simply by flying past them.

She was following him. The number of mages in existence who could do that was pretty small. The number who would willingly follow someone able to do this was smaller yet, for there were weapons a canny mage could employ that did require the use of a Device when they passed beyond the sound barrier. The turbulence of their wake, for example.

The Signum clone followed closely. In fact, she was gaining on him. Samuel was reasonably sure that shouldn't be possible. No, wait, there were two of them. One of them was falling behind, one wasn't. The one that wasn't had an odd tint to her hair.

"Oh shit." Samuel muttered, and looked around for a convenient starship or something else suitably heavy-hitting. Nothing was forthcoming. He maneuvered more, to keep out of reach as long as possible. "_Shaula, _Seventy, where are you?"

"_Shaula_ is four minutes out, Seventy."

Late. "Multiple Wolkenritter on-site, either hurry it up or don't come _Shaula_." If there was an acknowledgment, he never heard it, as saving his own life abruptly consumed all his attention when the Unisoned Signum clone caught up to him.

It wasn't a stirring clash of steel. Their respective enhancements and experience made them too quick and too savvy for that. Their blades made contact only once out of every four or five attempted strikes, between dodges and moments where they aborted the blow as their opponent moved to parry. Only a true master of the art of the blade would have found it a worthy conflict to watch.

Where was the second Signum clone? He didn't know. That realization almost caused him to panic. He'd tracked everyone and everything out of two hundred mages only an hour or two ago, how could he lose track of just two? Obvious answer: this one required his full attention to fight. Samuel briefly went hypersonic again, buying himself two seconds to spin around and locate her. She was still a good distance away, and tunnel-visioned on him herself.

Didn't notice the form and its forest of blades moving up behind her. Good. _Sette, warn me if she's getting close. And be careful._

_Aye aye, sir._ He heard the reply but had no time for it.

This Immortal Order Signum had started to frown heavily too. Samuel was making them angry. Not the brightest thing to do, but the only method of calming them was to roll over and die, and that wasn't in the cards. And he might die yet. His opponent was monstrously fast and powerful. A mistake, any mistake, would cost him his life.

Technically, he should probably be dead already. If she had simply used whatever had killed Shapiro's team and hurt nearly half of his, it would have been simple to kill him. Fortunately, she hadn't. Why was a mystery Samuel was uninterested in solving.

Back and forth at low-supersonic. She kept back enough to make striking her with a foot or fist difficult, so he hadn't tried much. Cautious, or somebody had warned her of his tendency to play rough.

Samuel pressed forward. It was the least of many evils. Never fight an opponent in a style they are comfortable with if you can help it. Give her no time to fire a cartridge, too; any of her cartridge-based abilities would make it significantly easier to gut him.

She had the same thought and the false Levantine started to fire a cartridge. At the same moment, Samuel jammed his hand against that part of the sword, including two fingers inside the chamber, on the cartridge. Whatever the Immortal Order Signum had intended to do, she completely forgot about it as her cartridge system hopelessly jammed on the fingers.

It hurt. Quite a bit, as the sword's firing mechanisms repeatedly slammed down on his left pointer and ring fingertips. He would never have gotten away with it if he wasn't a Combat Cyborg, as it would have shredded his fingers completely. At the same time, with his hand on the blade partially, he managed to shove it to one side and out of a guard position. Steelheart slammed into the Signum clone's upper chest and the blade flashed, then a blast exploded outwards. The sword, too, remembered the lessons of the first Signum it had killed.

"**Good kill.**" Steelheart sounded rather like it was enjoying itself. "**Second target.**" The Device sounded positively _gleeful_ about having something new to kill right away. Samuel ignored its antics from long familiarity.

Samuel was briefly, for about a half-second or a long eternity for a Combat Cyborg, frozen. Then... "Agito?"

The Unison Device didn't acknowledge him. It flew in circles, looking confused, New Belkan white uniform. Samuel ignored the Agito clone, if that was what it was, and located his other prospective opponent.

Sette hadn't done well for herself. She was barely managing to hold this one off, in no small part because the Signum clone was expending cartridges liberally and fighting from a distance. Fortunately at that moment option number two appeared in the form of a Bureau cruiser, which commenced rapid fire with its secondary batteries.

It was then that he looked down to find the Agito clone had its hands on his left, apparently trying to Unison. He'd not even noticed his mind rejecting the attempt. His eyebrows went up and he gently took hold of the tiny woman. "Stop that for a moment, will you?" To his surprise, she complied instantly, going still.

"Seventy, A One, report." A series of negative contacts rolled back. Aside from the two Signum clones, and a small number of flight mages accompanying them, there was no one in the area it seemed.

Rogue Wolkenritter never operated alone. The Bureau had established this through long, costly experience. If one, then all five were present somewhere on the field, maybe not directly with the the others, but somewhere. Where had the others gone?

Who was this in his hand?


	25. Human Again

If you're curious what the soundtrack to Signum going berserk is in my head, youtube "Kurayamino Variation"; the sort of quiet, controlled rage Rob Dougan is so good at conveying encapsulates how I see her anger pretty well.

**Human Again**

"One last group of Wolkenritter. You're closest." Hayate told Signum. "The area is temporarily blind to teleport, probably because of their ripper. Buy some time."

Signum nodded and closed the holowindow, then allowed herself a wolfish smile. Agito, along for the ride via Unison, noticed a subtle shift in Signum's thinking and had a sudden premonition she wouldn't like where this went.

* * *

The Reinforce clone died before it ever realized it was in danger. The others were registering the sonic boom and shockwave battering them as the Shamal clone died as well. The Vita, no hat and in loose-fitting black like all of them, got her weapon up and blocked the cut meant to kill her.

Levantine responded as if offended. It had slain emperors and princes. It would not be stopped by this pale imitation, this petty mercenary. Flames raced down the blade, the sword acting of its own volition as it drew on her and Agito for power. The Vita clone's weapon held for a second and then broke, and she had just enough time to realize doom was upon her before being sliced from shoulder to hip.

The second was too long. The Zafira and her clone were on top of her and she couldn't get her sword into a ready position fast enough. She parried the blow from the false Levantine with her armored vambrace, just as she had thousands of others. A Wolkenritter was never truly defenseless, and anyone who made the assumption they were rued that thought.

Levantine came up, not quick enough to stop the punch that rocked her head back, but took the arm off. Not enough to stop the Zafira but enough to keep it distracted for at least a few seconds.

Agito normally didn't mind Signum's manifest skill in the craft of death because of how the Wolkenritter approached it. The senior Wolkenritter was all calculated precision; Agito wouldn't even call it cold, because that implied emotion factored.

Today, however, as the fight went on and Signum caught her opponent's blade in a bind that resulted in both of them losing hold of their weapons, emotion was increasingly factoring. A hatred as cold as ice slowly rising from the depths of Signum's mind, urging her on.

_Kill. Kill! _She was a Wolkenritter. She had her hands. It was enough. Agito's warning about the unsoundness of attempting to strangle another Wolkenritter fell on deaf ears.

Behind her, the Zafira clone went for a Levantine and made the mistake of choosing the wrong one. Levantine was having none of its shenanigans and fired the cartridge currently loaded, intoning "**Schlangeform!**" and taking the Zafira's head off.

* * *

Things had gone, relatively speaking, well. The invasion stage of the operation was over, and the Bureau honestly had no intention of moving in and holding the territory, merely denying its usefulness.

Samuel shook his head. They were still looking, but so far there wasn't anything of more than peripheral use to this sort of war. The planet could probably make cases for a Device or starship hull plating, but nothing that actually made a weapon tick. The technology level was just short of being able to make shoulder-fired rockets that could reliably hurt a mage.

He hadn't heard much about the locals. They had stayed out of the Bureau's way, but then they would if they knew anything about mages. He'd only seen thirty or so of them so far, despite currently being posted to an urban area. Team Seventy stood guard while non-mage specialists examined the workings of a local police station, trying to get a feel for how the New Belkans interacted with the populace. The local cops had, rather wisely, vacated the building the moment Bureau personnel walked in.

The lack of people even coming to look at the new owners of the planet was unnerving. Unnatural. He made a mental note to ask if anyone had conducted a population count. Something was very wrong here.

"Seventy," he heard, but didn't actually _hear_, "relief in three minutes."

"Three minutes," he told his team. "B-One, when we're out of here you're with me."

"Understood sir." Bei replied.

The replacement team was a minute behind schedule due to a screwup involving the teleport scheduling; nothing worth even getting upset about, in the grand scheme of things.

* * *

"Carolyn." Samuel said softly.

She wasn't a girl anymore. Seventeen for a week, looking more like a woman, and twice wounded badly in action. Her burns were serious enough that she would spend at least two weeks in regenerative therapy for all that skin damage.

She tried to salute him, even from a hospital bed, but it would have tugged on her IV so she stopped. "Sir."

Samuel shook his head, hard. "None of that, Carolyn. Not here for that sort of conversation. This is the second time you've nearly been killed." The Bureau recruited young. Carolyn Altima had come into the Navy at age fifteen, full of fire, and spent a year in training before being posted to Team Seventy. It wasn't enough to be a good leader when you lead a Mage Team. Sometimes you had to know how to be a parent too, and a host of other things.

You were the authority figure. People would look to you for...well, everything. He'd been the one Carolyn turned to for advice about her first boyfriend and her first breakup. "I'm told you've put in for augmentation."

They hadn't worked out a term for Combat Cyborg conversion yet, or at least the lexicon hadn't standardized; "augmentation" was as good as any. "I did. I want to stay in the unit, if I can."

Samuel closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened his eyes again. "Carolyn, I wanted to ask you to take a transfer out of the fleet before your mother has me killed. You've heard about the CCDD diagnoses." The Bureau medical community, like most, abhorred it when things they had to treat went without a name. The malady that had afflicted Private Sylvia Laurens and three others of the Bureau's new cyborg detachments, causing them to go catatonic and their implants on emergency protocols, had been given a name almost immediately; Combat Cyborg Dissociative Disorder.

Carolyn smiled. It must have been a terrible effort, between the painkillers and the fact her legs were currently encased in a tissue regenerator, which Samuel knew from experience always felt downright bizarre. "Not a chance, sir."

Samuel reached out and, carefully, gave her unburned arm a squeeze. "All right then. I'll back you on this, but I reserve the right to send you in first when Lauren Altima calls me on the carpet for this."

Carolyn tried to laugh, winced instead. "Yes sir."

Samuel turned to find Vita waiting at the entrance to sick bay. He made his way over and acknowledged her with a nod. "Dame Vita."

"So have they scheduled an awards ceremony yet?" Vita asked, falling in step next to him.

Samuel's eyebrows went up. "For what, exactly?"

"Jackass." Vita muttered, then spoke louder. "You took on a Wolkenritter, one on one, face to face, with their weapon of choice. A proper duel. Nothing held back, intent to kill. And you won. That hasn't been done in _six thousand years._ You make only number twenty to do so. Do you get it now? This is, and you are, a _big fucking deal._"

Then, to his surprise, Vita stopped in place, turned towards him, and snapped to attention with Graf Eisen manifesting in her left hand. The Iron Knight brought her left arm up, held across her chest to thump her left fist and her weapon against her right shoulder.

The salute of one Belkan knight to another; a gesture of respect, of equality, of _brotherhood_ in the lack of a better term.

It was several seconds before Samuel returned the gesture. He wasn't sure what else to do. How, exactly, does one respond to being judged an equal by what amounted to an immortal demigod?

Into the awkward silence flew Agito, who headed directly to Samuel. "Signum told you, right? About what happens when two Wolkenritter are in skin-to-skin contact?"

Samuel nodded slowly. "Why do you-" Then, quite abruptly, his face contorted as though trying to show many emotions at once. "Signum killed one of them with her bare hands, didn't she?" Agito nodded her reply, not trusting herself to speak at the memory. She had felt it; felt, just as Signum had felt, every sensation of the both of them. To feel as both the murderer and the murdered was an experience the Unison Device never wanted to repeat.

Samuel's next remarks had a tone that suggested they should have been prefaced with profanity. "Does Hayate know? Does the Admiral?"

"I'm not sure." Agito replied.

Samuel swore, and surprised both Vita and Agito by adding some uncomplimentary remarks about Signum's intelligence. "You two are coming with me." Agito grasped it at once and almost hit herself for not getting it before; all the classified knowledge Signum had ever heard or seen was now at risk.

Vita raised a hand, having not yet gotten it. "Look-"

"I need a witness for the Admiral who's also Wolkenritter, you're here, nobody else suitable is, and I have rank on you Captain." Samuel's voice had gone hard, and he was technically correct; he _did_ have rank on her. "This is not up for discussion."

* * *

Signum found herself at attention in the conference room aboard the _Circe_. In front of her, at the far end of the table, was Chrono Harlaown. He was not sitting. To her left and slightly ahead of her was Samuel al-Faddil, whose purpose for being here she had not yet discerned. Behind her and to her right Vita fidgeted uncomfortably, recognizing that Chrono was intensely displeased.

"Major, if you weren't actually indispensable I'm fairly sure I could have you teleported into space and nobody would say a word." Chrono's voice had the mechanical evenness of a man who has mastered his anger but is wondering if he should bother; still from experience Signum knew that his anger was not real. But Chrono was intensely displeased if he was even simulating anger. "Do you have any idea of the kind of damage you've probably done? The magnitude of the security breach you've caused?"

Signum's attention stance had been, ever so slightly, not perfect. That changed instantly. "No, sir, I do not believe I have caused one."

Chrono regarded her with a coldness that even Signum, who had been coldly regarded by many people truly skilled in the art of looking at her as though she was subhuman, found unpleasant. "Major, you're not delusional. Explain that statement and be aware that the quality of your explanation will decide how badly I recommend you get busted for this."

"We were both in connection with Hayate's Book at the moment she died, I directly and she through me. We know, based on past experience, that they will attempt to use the Book of the Night Sky for coordination and reincarnation in preference to whatever their own source is." Signum paused. "I felt her die. I felt her core processes try to connect with the Book to reincarnate and I know they failed. She is either permanently dead, or possibly trapped in storage in the Book of the Night Sky."

Chrono continued to regard her coldly for nearly a minute. Then, he leaned back in his chair, slowly. "You are positive of this."

"I cannot state anything with perfect certainty, Admiral. Examination of the Book of the Night Sky should confirm or deny this." Signum replied.

Chrono made a short, sharp nod. "This was not something you knew beforehand."

"No sir." Signum's voice was sharp, and clear. She was aware of her mistake in that regard.

"Admiral, if I may?" Samuel's voice. He'd moved to face the Admiral at some point and she'd missed it. Chrono raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Samuel turned to Signum. "There is something else, Major. Specifically, the fact you disobeyed orders from Colonel Yagami-" Vita's sharp intake of breath and the way that Signum looked shocked indicated that he'd struck a nerve, "and also in the fact that you chose to risk your life in a very foolish way, when she could have called her Levantine to her hand and cut you in half. You let your personal hate for your opponent get in the way of doing your duty."

Chrono looked both amused and somewhat stern: his subordinate had spoken out of turn, even with permission; still, he would dress the man down in private if that was necessary. Signum actually looked...physically ill, as though in serious pain in fact. Vita's mouth had fallen open.

"Major." Chrono said, reasserting control of the conversation. "You are dismissed. Consider yourself confined to quarters until this issue has been investigated, and if _you_ learned anything from _her_, that information has been digitized and submitted to me and Bureau Intelligence for review." A pause, then he spoke as Signum turned on one heel. "And visit the medics. You look in a bad way."

Chrono glanced at Samuel. "Commander. Was that necessary?"

"The basis of shame is that everyone knows you screwed up, sir." Samuel replied. His tone shifted, becoming more formal. "My apologies, Admiral."

"Accepted." Chrono glanced back over his shoulder. "You can come out now, Agito. I have no objection to your decision to attach yourself to the Commander in the interim. But if you intend to stay, I have to insist you get the proper uniform."

Agito emerged from behind Chrono and glanced down at her brown Ground Forces/Headquarters class As. "Uh..."

Chrono didn't actually smile, but somehow gave that impression. "You don't make Admiral by being unable to read people, Agito. Commander, Captain, you are also dismissed."

Vita drifted over towards Samuel on the way out.

"There was a time where Signum, where any of us, would have killed you where you stood for making that accusation." Vita's tone was soft, almost haunted. "Duty was all we had then."

"Fair. But was I wrong?" Samuel replied. He was apologetic, but not prepared to concede his point.

Vita shook her head. "Not going to say anything about that." But that in itself was an admission of sorts, and Agito knew it while Samuel suspected it.

"And no more practice sessions either." Vita added. "Today just sucks." Samuel raised an eyebrow at her, and Vita sighed. "Throw a punch. Like you mean it. Not at anything in particular, just at the air.

Samuel paused, then did so...and realized Vita's point a moment later. The punch was accompanied by a loud sound like the crack of a whip though significantly louder, something he'd heard on occasion when watching Tre in action or some of the Wolkenritter.

A localized sonic boom. His arm had broken the speed of sound throwing a punch. With that kind of force behind it, even a Device in training mode could inflict injuries. "And of course, you've been holding back on me."

"Of course." Vita agreed, with a grin. "Didn't want to break you. I suppose we could still do a remote training setup, but that's a pain." The Bureau had never been terribly interested in the remote training functionality, having opponents in other areas represented by holograms to each other, so that no mistakes were possible. But that was never really necessary before now, and so never really used.

* * *

"You heard." It wasn't a question. Of course Hayate had heard. In fact, Hayate had a pretty good idea of the specifics of Chrono's conversation with Signum because Vita hadn't bothered to close her connection to the link shared between the Wolkenritter and their mistress.

"A deduction beneath your pay grade, Admiral." Hayate replied. Refusing to offer a salute to the senior officer was a serious insult; one, Chrono admitted, he'd earned. Signum _was_ technically in his chain of command, and so he _could_ technically discipline her...but going over Hayate's head in doing so had been grossly unpolitic.

"Not all problems that come before a commander are those that merit the attention of someone of their rank, as you well know." Chrono's voice softened. "My apologies, Hayate, but it was a possible crisis. I had to deal with it directly."

"I could have been informed." Hayate was not quite so easily mollified. "You could have remanded her to me. The result would hardly have been different."

Chrono conceded with a nod. "True." A pause. "Though I don't think what I said upset her nearly so much as what Commander al-Faddil said did."

Hayate crossed her arms. "Vita was quite insistent about blanking that bit, and only that bit, out. What did he do?"

Chrono sighed. "Reciprocity, Hayate. He's not in your chain of command, remember that. And to actually answer the question, he stated that Signum had allowed her personal feelings to interfere with her duty, and in so doing disobeyed your orders."

Hayate's mouth fell open. "And she didn't break his legs?"

Chrono smiled tentatively. "I think Signum might have worried I'd object." Ever since Chrono had gone one-on-one with a Reinforce clone and won, the Wolkenritter had been noticeably more circumspect around him. "She seemed more hurt than offended. I must ask though, did she really disobey you?"

"In spirit, at least." Hayate replied. "But not intentionally. She is a Wolkenritter, you know as well as I do that she cannot intentionally disobey me any more than she can stop breathing. Her actions were thoughtless, not mutinous." Hayate shrugged. "I'll have to supervise a little more closely."

Chrono remained silent, personal penance for his wrongs, for nearly a minute. Then: "And the rest of your team?"

"The Wolkenritter are aware. I doubt they will discuss it. It strays close to things best left forgotten." Hayate replied. "They will each rebuke her in their own way, draw back a little, and then close ranks with her again. The others...do not need to know, I think."

* * *

She answered the door to meet a familiar black uniform. "Dame Signum." Samuel nodded to her politely.

Signum wondered if she'd become so human to the Bureau that people no longer feared her, or if it was just him. "Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Agito wanted someone to get her things." Samuel's formal tone slipped away. "You scared her rather badly, you know. I'm surprised you could go through with that of your volition."

"There are things worth doing." Signum replied, after a moment. He had known, of course, but to hear him discuss knowing openly... It was not something most people would care to contemplate too closely. She waved him into her quarters. It was another double-occupancy compartment, though the ones on _Circe_ were noticeably larger than those on the cruisers; the shower at the back wouldn't block getting out of one of the bunks if the door was open.

Signum made her way over to where Agito's things were kept; second cabinet above her bunk. Zafira supposedly used the other bunk, but wolf was more likely to by found sleeping near Hayate than here. She opened the cabinet and paused, turning her head to look at him. "Commander. A personal question?"

Samuel tilted his head, down fractionally and several degrees to the left, then returned it upright. A gesture of agreement, Signum thought. Or at least hoped. "What do you think of me?"

There was a pause, and Signum worried she'd misinterpreted his gesture. Then he spoke, in an even, measured tone. "I could call you the stuff of nightmares. After all, you are. " The way he said it robbed it of sting; a statement of fact, not a condemnation. "I could speak of you as a goddess, and only be half-joking." Again a statement of fact, not praise. He had been examining her compartment rather than looking at her, until then, but now he met her eyes. "But honestly, I think of you as a woman still not entirely used to making her own decisions."

Kind of him. Signum wondered, as she handed over Agito's things, if she deserved it.

* * *

They had taken what they wanted from the planet and left.

They had also taken things they didn't want. The two noncombatant ships the Bureau had captured had been carrying live cargo: children, aged nine to five, about five thousand all told. No one on the planet had been willing to take them, though examination of data in the ship's logs had indicated the children had come aboard at that planet and more than a few people had reported their suspicions that the kids were local.

But nobody would take them in. It was more than a little bizarre, even unnatural. They would rather trust children, probably their children, to strangers who had invaded their world than take them in.

Perhaps, Signum thought, because they feared retribution from their masters for it. The New Belkans had treated the world with a sort of distant contempt. No real government larger than a state or province had been allowed; no weapons able to harm a Barrier Jacketed mage permitted. General level of technology was several decades short of the starfaring reach Midchilda had obtained over eighty years ago, but their medical knowledge was not far behind that of the Bureau.

Writing her report to Chrono had not taken her long. She had found it a useful activity; the military's desire to have all experience written down and cataloged was something Signum found easily familiar to her by her own desire to compose her thoughts and draw useful lessons from her battles. Some warriors never learned to appreciate the writing of reports; to Signum it seemed as natural as breathing.

The investigation had been short. It had confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt her opposite number had failed to properly reincarnate and was currently trapped, unable to manifest, in stasis by the Book of the Night Sky. There had, of course, been an inquiry into the viability of continuing to dispose of the New Belkan's Wolkenritter clones by that method.

Hayate had utterly refused to sanction it. Aside from the obvious stupidity and danger in attacking an opponent such as a Wolkenritter with one's bare hands, Hayate would not even consider ordering her subordinates into the trauma of effectively experiencing their own deaths. And nobody really knew what amount of storage space was available to the Book.

Now she went to see the new edition to the New Belkan aresnal, the captured Agito clone. Shamal was there, as the closet thing to an expert available, watching the Agito clone to make sure it didn't hurt itself. "Signum."

"Shamal." She nodded her greeting to the Knight of the Lake.

"Signum." Shamal replied. "You're here for the basic story?" Signum nodded.

"Put food in front of her and she'll eat it, she can use a sink to get herself water, and even use a toilet," an uncomfortable-looking Shamal explained. "Give her a person, and she'll try to Unison. Beyond that..." Shamal trailed off. "She has very little cognitive higher function that I can detect. You would need to have Mariel Atenza examine her to find out more."

"You're saying they lobotomized her." Signum replied. Her tone was level, through the volume was soft.

"They _probably_ lobotomized her." There was more rebuke to that remark than the remark itself warranted, and Signum was aware that Shamal had been looking for an excuse...just like the other Wolkenritter. "Or maybe having the person she was Unisoned with killed has damaged her psyche." Shamal replied. "I can only observe her behavior. I lack the training and the equipment to properly diagnose a Unison Device."

At any other time, such an admission would have at least taken Shamal a moment. They were Wolkenritter, and not accustomed to running into the limits of their skills. But the magnitude of Signum's own failure made admitting such a minor failing easy for now.

And it surprised Signum how much it rankled her. "A copy, like us? Dynamic reaction to Agito and myself?"

Shamal shook her head. "Not likely. There's still a great deal we don't know about the circumstances Agito came from. You remember when Chrono tasked Naval Counterintelligence to track down the project that had held her?" Signum nodded. She had never learned the outcome of that. Shamal frowned. "I was just told how that turned out." Shamal continued over the mental link. _They never found it. Which could mean it was buried incredibly deeply, or_...

_Or,_ Signum completed, _because Naval Counterintelligence is a frighteningly competent organization, they never found it because it was never even related to the Bureau. And Jail lied to Zest and Lutecia more than we ever thought._


	26. Divergence

**Divergence**

"Where's Agito?" Yuuno asked.

"Agito developed irreconcilable differences with Signum. I had to transfer her." Hayate explained, without actually explaining anything. Eyebrows went up, but no one pressed the issue. No one except Nanoha, and she had the good sense to wait and ask Signum later.

"What happened, Signum?" Nanoha was forthright.

"I...made a mistake. Thoughtlessly I performed an action and thoughtlessly I dragged Agito along into a rather traumatic experience." Signum replied, cautious.

"Have you tried to make it up to her?" Nanoha tended to make people think she was blind to the feelings and concerns of others, but it was a selective blindness, a deliberate falsity. Nanoha regarded her conscience as sovereign and acted according to it without regard to the feelings of others; but she was deeply aware of them and in her own way quite empathic.

Signum regarded Nanoha quietly for a moment, then spoke. "I made her go through the experience of being both murderer and murdered, Nanoha. I do not believe that what you suggest is possible."

Nanoha shook her head hard. "Never admit defeat. Especially," a cheerful grin, "to me."

Signum shook her head. "Try not to do your reputation for psychosis any favors, Nanoha. I am not one of your trainees." Signum was not in the mood for any antics from the Ace of Aces.

Nanoha smiled her most-innocuous smile. The Ace of Aces was utterly incapable of appearing sinister or frightening even at her angriest. This was not, however, the same as incapable of actually being sinister. It was a lesson Signum saw demonstrated before her now. There was absolutely nothing threatening about Nanoha at this moment she could point to, not her body language, her expression, the way she moved or the look in her eyes. All of it suggested harmless amusement.

But still the Wolkenritter crushed an urge to shiver. Harmless as she appeared, the Ace of Aces was anything but, and some unknown thing was eager to remind Signum of that.

* * *

To see a Wolkenritter in action was to witness the perfection of the martial art. There was something hypnotic about it, an inhuman grace and a complete absence of mistakes. You could not exploit flaws in technique as such against a Wolkenritter. They were still handicapped by their choices of weapon to some extent, it was true.

In the end though, the only way to reliably defeat a Wolkenritter in a straight fight was to bury them. Overwhelm their ability to keep track of their opponents with too many warm bodies and hope for someone to land hits that mattered. Bloody, inelegant, but effective.

Signum did not participate in training today. Hayate had grounded her, even taken Levantine away as a symbolic gesture, though since it was by Hayate's order Signum would never violate it. Nanoha would not have this and had come over to argue the point with her nominal commanding officer. "You can't punish her this way, Hayate." Nanoha said simply. It was presented as a statement of fact rather than a opinion.

"I am her commanding officer, Nanoha, I can punish her however I want." Hayate replied testily.

"No. You can't. Punishment must not only work to punish the wrongdoer, it must serve the greater good. Grounding Signum does not do that." Nanoha's voice grew softer. "And you don't seem to realize how badly it will hurt a kensai to be forced to lay down their weapon."

Kensai. Nanoha remembered her Japanese heritage more strongly than Hayate did, or at least made reference to it more. To be a legend in the use of the blade, a sword-saint. Even Musashi had only been widely hailed with the title after he was dead, but Hayate was reasonably certain that Signum could have left Miyamoto Musashi an interesting stain upon the floor. The Wolkenritter knew far more about the use of a blade then mortal humans could ever learn.

Yes, the title was deserved. And in it Hayate could see Nanoha's reasoning. The blade, the use of the blade, was as much a part of Signum has her right arm. Hayate felt a moment's horror, a sudden sensation she was slipping off the edge of a cliff with only endless blackness below her. _And I tell myself I'd never cut off her arm, but I already have!_

"Signum." Hayate called out. Her most senior knight turned and was surprised to find Levantine's storage form had been tossed to her. She caught it with a questioning look. Hayate waved her towards the training field. "Don't ask. Just get out there."

Signum did not display how startled she felt, but did as told. Nanoha patted Hayate on the back. "You did the right thing."

Hayate regarded her closest friend with a questioning look. "You knew I'd freak out. You knew." Being unlike the Wolkenritter's previous masters was one of Hayate's greatest goals in life; to treat them different, treat them better, care about their feelings and their needs. It wasn't always easy. They were conditioned so strongly to suffer in silence that realizing when she had done something wrong was difficult.

Nanoha smiled and shrugged, projecting her best image of harmlessness. "You aren't the only one concerned by the amount of power you have over their lives, Colonel Yagami."

* * *

Signum was moping again, though not lonely. The others did not worry as much, but they did worry. Only Zafira did not, but he kept it to himself.

The wolf was both the most and the least human of them, at the same time usually. The two things were inextricably linked. Because he could be the wolf, he'd been best able to protect himself from ten thousand years of insanity and abuse. It had been Zafira who had retained his ability to laugh, Zafira who had still been able to appreciate the irony and occasional unintentional comedy of the grim existence that being a Wolkenritter had turned out to have been before Hayate came along.

He had been the wolf so that he could cling fiercely to his humanity, and the humor in that wasn't lost on him either. The humor of Signum's situation also wasn't lost on him either. They'd gotten used to thinking of themselves as beyond the errors and frailties of humans, but Signum's mistake fighting her clone was getting her a crash-course in the fact that she only qualified as a demigod, and only on her good days.

And Zafira thought she'd be better, stronger, for it. A wise person never considered themselves perfect, and Signum was providing the Wolkenritter with a useful reminder of this.

* * *

Agito had been...adapting. She had started with having two roommates rather than one. Tre had made space for Agito's things amid the Number's own, though in truth there was room enough for her to move into either of the two's personal items storage space aboard ship, as both only packed the regulation clothing and toiletries were the ship's problem. Tre hadn't had time to accumulate much in the way of non-standard personal items. Samuel simply didn't pack any.

Perhaps she'd find out why, Agito thought. She liked Samuel, but in many respects she didn't really know him. This didn't bother her much, she hadn't known Signum very well either at first. Samuel was compatible, he was a fighter, he wasn't a lunatic, and he wanted to work with her. The rest would sort itself out.

And there was nothing quite like combat duty to get to know someone with. They'd participated in three raids against New Belkan facilities since Agito had become part of Team Seventy. And Samuel was genuinely rather different from Signum in that, in ways that had surprised Agito.

It was a subtle effect, one she doubted she would notice but for their Unisons, but he seemed more...animated, more alive, in combat or planning for combat. It wasn't, though, against merely flesh-and-blood enemies. Simulation and practice against live opponents seemed to do the same.

That was comforting. Agito had never actually known somebody who liked fighting, but at least Samuel seemed able to channel it into non-destructive outlets if necessary. And the planning part suggested there was more to it than a love of combat.

So she confronted him about it. Samuel was sitting at a table in the mess, doing paperwork...which in the Bureau was no longer done on paper. He leaned back slowly and regarded Agito in silence for several seconds. "I don't make a deal of it. It's not the sort of thing you can say in polite company without sounding like a barbarian. Well, at least with the job I have. If I were a civvie I expect it'd be reasonably normal and I'd just play games."

Agito crossed her arms and flitted down to stand on the table. "You're dancing around the point."

A faint smile. "Yeah. It's easy. Some people have hobbies. I have my job. Some people do crossword puzzles. I solve tactical problems. That's my idea of fun." Samuel's smile faded and he shook his head. "I imagine you've had this conversation with Signum about swordplay."

Agito blinked a couple times in quick succession. "Uh...no, actually. Though I see your point." It really was the only thing Signum ever showed passion about, the only thing aside from her work that she actively pursued. If, Agito thought, you could really separate swordplay from Signum's job.

"So. I do this because I like it and I'm good at it." Samuel shrugged. "Am I too psychotic for you?"

"Not yet." Agito replied. "Do you, perhaps, also enjoy killing people?"

Samuel was silent a moment. "Enjoy? No. But I won't pretend that I don't take satisfaction in a job well done, and my job often happens to involve hurting or killing people. You know that." And she did. Three separate combat actions had taught her that her new partner was actually very different from her old one. In some ways, he was better for it. Certainly he was more easily related to for the Unison Device. Signum's ageless qualities, her endless confidence, they were in their own way intensely intimidating. Samuel still gave the impression he felt things when he fought, even if it didn't seem to affect him very often.

"Anyways. About that question you asked, making Unison less flashy. I think I can do it." Agito said. "But why?"

Samuel grinned, and it was not kind. "If you look different, more people attack you. If you look the same, fewer people realize what a danger you are."

* * *

It was an experiment. No one had, to Agito's knowledge, ever tried to suppress the external signs of a Unison before. It wasn't something that would have occurred to the mind of the Belkans, either old or new, who had Unison Devices. Really only Hayate might have tried before now, and Hayate never did.

It was a measure of how ignorant the Bureau was on the subject of Unison Devices that this little experiment, with a trivial outcome and purpose, was actually to be observed by two high-profile research mages and Mariel Atenza was running a variety of scanning devices. Even something this simple was essentially unknown.

It didn't take long. Almost immediately after Unison, Samuel had managed to suppress the most obvious sign, the changing color of his Barrier Jacket, without Agito's help. A little assistance from her and about ten minutes working out how and they'd managed to suppress the color changes of hair and eyes.

Though not without side effects. Little sourceless flames eddied in his wake when he moved. When he opened his mouth to speak, there were flames, and though they did not stray beyond his lips the effect caused Mariel to shiver. It only accentuated the bizarre and somewhat threatening way his eyes reflected flames that did not exist in the real world.

_Agito._ His voice was calm, not the calm of combat, a simple no-threat no-worry calm. _So this was easy. Think we can make it more flashy?_

_A moment. Hold out your hand palm out._ Agito replied, clearly concentrating. They still had to make an effort at conversing, though occasional flashes of thought had begun to slip through, an experience normal to Agito but somewhat disconcerting to Samuel. Agito tended to be a little too eager for his taste. Samuel held out his hand with the palm out, and then, in the subtle stereo of a Unison, spoke. "Spear."

The jet of flame was white, and the temperature in the room spiked alarmingly while flame itself actually melted a sizable hole in one of the walls before Samuel managed to get his hand closed.

* * *

"The hell just happened?" Samuel demanded of Agito, who had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"I'm not sure. I really didn't expect that." Agito replied, and looked over towards where Mariel and the two research mages were conferring in hushed tones. "Can anyone tell us what we just managed to do?" She raised her voice and injected a touch of demand in that.

Mariel looked up, and for a moment with her eyes wide and a guilty expression looked incongruously like she'd been caught passing notes by the teacher. "We aren't entirely sure either. What we do know is that you should be dead, Commander. The heat eddying off that should have cooked you, but the Unison somehow protected you from it. That flame was hot enough to match stellar fusion." Mariel frowned. "If you hadn't closed your hand you would have kept punching holes in bulkheads until we ran out of Starburst Station or it ran out of range."

Samuel looked vaguely queasy. Being Navy meant knowing a lot about what happened when you tried to breathe hard vacuum or the Dimensional Sea, the better to keep you from doing something that might cause it. "The station is over a hundred kilometers wide. I don't think I'd have managed to vent the compartment when we're more than twenty kilometers below the outer hull."

"The raw level of the discharge was low, nothing like what Signum can do," Mariel noted that Agito shivered but didn't understand why, "but it was very concentrated. You could easily cut through any known substance and the majority of Barrier Jackets with that in a second or two."

Samuel rubbed his face a moment. "Great. The world's best blowtorch. Not very useful if I kill people who happen to be standing around."

Agito, meanwhile, was reading Mariel's body language. The two were reasonably familiar, since Mariel more or less served as Agito's personal physician. And right now, Mariel looked guilty. "Hey, Doc! 'fess up!" Agito called.

The guilty look got prominent enough even Samuel could read it. "There's a possibility observing that gave us some data we didn't have about the mechanics of a Unison that might fill in a critical hole in our knowledge about Unison Devices. And could potentially allow us to create," Samuel and Agito both noted that Mariel had self-edited another word out and used 'create' instead, "more of them."

Agito and Samuel looked equally dismayed. And though the reason was the same, as they both envisioned guinea pig assignments, the details were different. Agito had nightmares about that. Samuel wanted to be out making a difference.


	27. The Truth At Home

A note about Megane Alpine: she was in the same unit as Zest Grangeitz and Quint Nakajima. Subaru freely admits that her mom was better than her, and StrikerS never even pretended that the Forwards were a match for Zest. Her passivity in ViVid is a smokescreen for the fact her previous job description involved huge amounts of asskicking on demand.

My rough math suggests that Samuel actually would have been in the service around the time Megane was injured and Quint and Zest were killed, and for about two years, so he would have been (or would soon be) Veteran Mage Specialist al-Faddil, age 15.

**The Truth At Home**

The guinea pig assignments hadn't come. More raids, lots more raids, had.

Samuel was tired. Agito knew it, because she knew him in a more intimate fashion than anyone else here. But he did not allow it to show. He struggled with himself, forcing his actions to appear rested, his head not to droop, his movements to be as strong and quick as if normal. Because of his Combat Cyborg enhancements, the show was actually quite convincing. Unless, of course, you were in Unison with the person putting it on.

_You're going to kill yourself._ Agito said.

_Then I guess I'll kill myself_. The commander's mask was firmly in place. Show no weakness, no fear; not human but a physical manifestation of the mission orders.

Agito mentally sighed. Though she might admire the dedication, she also abhorred the denial. _You're only human._

Samuel almost cracked a smile at that. _There's a little extra lately. Besides, there's the-_

_I remember._ Agito said shortly. There were unpleasant things about being among mortals again. One of them was painfully obvious in retrospect: they were actually mortal.

They died.

Team Twenty-One and Team One-Twenty with whom Team Seventy shared the _Nemesis_ had both suffered a fatality each. Team Seventy was still intact, though everyone had suffered their share of scrapes and cuts. Even Agito had been backhanded into a wall by a New Belkan mage who hadn't taken her as a serious threat. That unfortunate woman had paid a heavy price for her temerity. Agito counted as an A-ranker in her own right, and had bathed the New Belkan in flame a moment later despite the ringing in her ears.

It would have done Tre some good to know how mortal her team leader actually was at the moment, but even when she could have reached out and touched him with the slightest of leans she couldn't tell. And his apparent indefatigable nature intimidated her further.

Agito separated from Samuel with a sigh and flew over to the nearest place to sit; in her case, a pipe on the overhead. She wasn't unaware of Tre's feelings about her commanding officer; Samuel had been quite insistent that Agito check for Unison compatibility with everyone on Team Seventy. Tre was easy to Unison with, but it didn't seem to have much impact on her abilities.

Perhaps it was the guilt, Agito thought, that made it easy for Tre to take a Unison. The thought wasn't truly unkind, Agito's interest in the mechanics of Unison was far too practical for that. It would go some way towards explaining Signum as well...though not Samuel, and in a different way also not Zest.

Agito crossed her arms and decided to think about it later. They were due some downtime on Starburst Station soon. In fact...

Agito watched from the mess deck. The sight never failed to shock her somehow. Bureau Headquarters, Starburst Station, was a feat of engineering without meaningful comparison. It was easily the size of a small moon. Nearly half of one of the two asteroid belts in the same planetary system as Midchilda had been vacuumed up and processed into the raw materials that composed the station. Constructing it had taken nearly twenty years, and it was a task never truly completed. There were always additions to be made, or remodeling to be done. And Agito had never managed to get a straight answer about how the Bureau had moved it into the Dimensional Sea.

The docks could house most of the Bureau fleet. They were almost empty, now, though the shipyards were crowded and Agito wondered why.

"They're building a new classification of ship, I think. Normal designs take months to complete at best." That monotone could only belong to Sette.

The Unison Device jerked around. "Don't sneak up on me."

The Combat Cyborg ignored the comment. It was pure white noise to Sette, with all the combat data that had been loaded into her brain before she'd first woken up. Asking her to not move silently was akin to asking someone else not to breathe: yes, they could do it, but the request was too absurd to be taken seriously. "I wonder if the Doctor ever beheld this sight. I rather expect not."

Agito tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

The barest hint of an unkind smile graced Sette's face. "Such an irrefutable demonstration of his stupidity would be hard for his ego to countenance." All that combat data meant Sette appreciated what madness it was to oppose an organization which could build and maintain something like Bureau Headquarters.

"Ah." Agito had noticed previously that Uno could be remarkably harsh about her father. It seemed Sette took after her eldest sister a little more than the Unison Device had thought.

* * *

Vita was knocking about the nicer parts of Headquarters, "uptown" as they called it, the parts that looked more like a city than a navy ship. Green grass and a playground, benches where she sat to watch children play.

"Dame Vita."

Only one person ever greeted her that way. "Samuel, sit down. And don't call me that."

He grinned a moment. Vita might be willing to greet him as a brother, but he was not so sure he should greet her as a sister. For one thing, she was approximately nine thousand nine hundred and seventy-two years older than he was.

Samuel looked across the way at the children playing on the playground and watched one chase another around a piece of equipment, catching the corner to allow himself to make a tighter move around the turn. Recalled doing that very same thing in pursuit of a New Belkan mage only a few days ago.

War is unnatural, his father had quoted to him, because it causes fathers to bury their sons. This moment seemed a far better argument for the unnatural nature of warfare. He could not watch children play without being reminded of the act of killing. And it worried him vaguely that it was only by its juxtaposition with children that he was bothered by the act of killing.

"You know, when I was a lot younger..." Vita began, then looked up and over at him abruptly.

Samuel didn't look over to correct her, continuing to watch the children. "How many thousands of years?" His tone was soft, inviting confidence.

Vita half-smiled to herself. It _was_ Samuel, and he remembered who and what he spoke to better than most when. "Nine at least. Very young, new to all this. Still hopeful. I used to think about being a mother. It was a really stupid dream, of course. I'll never hit puberty and even if I do, Wolkenritter are sterile like familiars are." Vita shook her head. "Dream's been dead at least nine thousand and five hundred years. Still hurts sometimes."

Samuel's hand reached over and rested briefly on top of Vita's. He didn't say anything. Samuel's skill with words was insufficient to the task before it, and he could think of nothing to say that would remotely help. But he could still impart support through simple human contact.

Vita's head jerked around. She wasn't used to being touched, none of the Wolkenritter really were, since they couldn't touch each other and for most of their lives anyone else wasn't intending them kindness when they were touched.

He didn't mean her harm. And it _did_ help, to her surprise. Vita turned her hand over beneath his to squeeze his hand briefly. "Thanks."

"I do what I can." Samuel said. "Sometimes it feels decidedly less than others."

* * *

Yuuno was fussing about. It wasn't actually as though he had something to fuss over, though, as his responsibilities in the matter were taken care of. Though he was assigned to a battlefield command of Uno and Arf, he was not administratively responsible for them. All members of the Dream Team reported directly to Hayate. The fact Yuuno saw a need to take responsibility in this incident spoke more to his personal qualities than his duties.

The malefactor had been non-mage support personnel and hadn't liked Uno's attitude. He was not the first person to make this comment, to Uno's chagrin, and he would probably not be the last. His response was unique however: he'd punched a Combat Cyborg in the face, forgetting her bones and cartilage were made of armor-grade alloys. Uno's nose had broken his fist. Arf, in her self-assigned role as Uno's minder, had then leaped on the man, carrying him to the floor, and punched him out with a right cross while she sat on his stomach. The entire incident had been farcical in the extreme.

Reprimands for everyone who'd thrown a blow. Uno, who had nominally been the cause of all this, hadn't lifted a finger to defend herself or participated in the brief fight except by getting hit. She nonetheless acknowledged she shared some responsibility, which was why she was with Arf, pulling duty in the headquarters medical center. Arf had medical skills, Uno had a few as well, but they were mostly assigned to make the rounds, talk to people and try to keep them positive, and call for real medical people if something bad happened. Yuuno simply kept an eye on them unofficially.

It was there that Uno met a ghost, a woman who she knew well, but had never seen alive. Megan Alpine stood what the Combat Cyborg could only describe as watch, her daughter next to her. In the same area was a young man, badly burned. Uno glanced at the chart next to the entryway and got nothing from it; a Ground Forces private, injured on Iorgu. "Ma'am."

Megane Alpine was technically on an extended medical leave from the Bureau. As she had been listed as killed in action until her recovery from Jail's base, she was never formally discharged from service. Megane Alpine had been a skilled investigator, it was true, but of the forty separate citations for service above and beyond, thirty-two of them had been for combat.

For a ground mage to see action before the war was rare. Only one in about two hundred would ever encounter a nominally hostile mage in the course of their duties, and usually that ended peacefully. Megane's career had been most unusual, and she was remembered well for it by people from several of the services. Lutecia's suspended sentence had far more to do with who her mother was than anything about Lutecia Alpine herself.

Megane's eyes narrowed when Lutecia let out a squeak at seeing Uno. "I know you."

Uno nodded slowly. "I am afraid so, ma'am." Megane still had her rank of Major, even if she wasn't required to wear the uniform. "I once worked for Jail Scaligetti. Your daughter probably remembers me." Uno wondered about Megane's relationship with her daughter. Lutecia had been born after Megane's incapacitation, and so when Megane had been woken by Bureau medical types after her recovery, she had been informed of her young daughter whom she'd never before met.

But if ever someone had shown a motherly desire to protect her child, Megane Alpine was doing so at this moment. Getting hit in the face by Megane, Uno suspected, would be a much more serious issue then the strike that had brought her here. Uno kept her hands at her sides and did her best to be nonthreatening.

Fortunately Yuuno turned up to rescue her. "Major Alpine, Lutecia, it's a pleasure to see you both." Megane's position, even if lapsed, gave her direct contact with the head of the Infinite Library, and Yuuno had spoken to her several times in that role. He was also very fond of children.

Uno wondered why she considered that suddenly important, then concluded very quickly she didn't want to examine the motives too closely. There were things about herself was she was not ready to know. Yuuno made introductions and explanations while Uno locked her subconcious up again.

"How do you know him?" Uno asked, indicating the unconscious Ground Forces trooper.

"He was assigned to protective detail with us for a year." Megane said softly. "Lutecia is quite fond of him." Lutecia nodded agreement, though she hadn't spoken an actual word since laying eyes on Uno.

But the little girl in her did smile wide when Arf arrived as well. And Arf smiled too, and Uno found herself smiling, and decided that this sequence of events should be even less examined than the one previous.

* * *

"Lutecia!" Agito called.

"Agito!" The smile was almost as disorienting as if somebody had reversed gravity, the Lutecia that Agito had known was very much reserved. "Where's Signum?"

Agito grinned. "Off being very very serious. I have a new partner now, he even cracks a smile occasionally." She turned and raised her voice. "Hey Sammy! Get over here and introduce yourself!"

Samuel turned with a grim expression. "Agito, remember three things. First, I know where you sleep. Second, a single tube of toothpaste can completely coat your bed. And third," his expression abruptly became a grin, "you know that calling me Sammy doesn't bother me at all."

Agito laughed. "See, I told you!"

Lutecia smiled, a little uncertain. The man looked like no other person she'd ever seen, his skin tone a trifle too dark to be Midchildan or Belkan, black shiny hair, the uniform of a navy mage. "Who are you, mister?"

"His name is Samuel al-Faddil." Megane Alpine said, looking up from her computer. "And he's become quite the mage while I was away."

Samuel's eyebrows went up. Megane looked impossibly young for a woman who was at least a decade older than him. She might have been his own age. "Have we met?"

Megane smiled faintly. "I knew your father, and your grandfather as well. They were both quite proud of you when last we spoke."

Samuel's expression suggested he wasn't sure whether to take Megane seriously. His grandfather, which meant his mother's father as his father's father was buried somewhere on Earth and had died in ignorance of his son's and grandson's achievements, was Admiral Stephan Langsdorff. A proud old Belkan warhorse, he'd been in the Bureau at its founding eighty years ago, commanding a warship against the last Belkan starships that swore fealty to the warlords who'd emerged after the Empire fell. Stephan Langsdorff was one of the Bureau Navy's founding fathers, and the original owner of the Intelligent Device his grandson carried. Stephan had died only a couple years after Samuel joined the Navy.

"You know my father?" Samuel temporized in the absence of having a useful thing to say.

"Muhammed was a good friend. We worked together several times before my...injuries." Megane inclined her head slightly as she assumed a position next to her daughter. "I would like to speak to him again, if you would convey that to him the next time you speak."

Samuel shrugged. "I will, though I don't get the chance to talk to him as much as I'd like either. I'm actually on an errand for him, really. Lutecia's debriefing was thorough, but we never found the facility that housed Agito."

Megane frowned heavily. "That hardly sounds like the Naval Counterintelligence I remember Muhammed running."

"I think Admiral Harlaown said something like that himself." Samuel said. "But there was one detail from Lutecia's debriefing that warranted a followup." He drew out Steelheart's card-shaped storage form. "Steelheart, project. New Belkan uniform variant with cap."

The Device displayed a holographic image of a woman with brown hair, in a white cap with white jacket and pants. A single row of silver buttons ran down the left side of the jacket.

"The guards for the place we found Agito wore that." Lutecia said softly. Agito nearly fell out of the air, Samuel putting out a hand to catch her.

"Hey," he said softly to the Unison Device. "Talk to me."

Agito did not reply. She seemed to have fainted. Samuel wasn't even sure if the Unison Device _could_ faint, and reacted accordingly, yelling for a doctor. Megane's expression was grim for an entirely different reason, and she went down on one knee, holding her daughter close.


	28. The Consequence of Lies

It's been a long time, and I apologize for leaving you all in the wasteland of fluff that this section turned into when I wasn't looking. _In The Service_ is nearing its end, though we still have at least a few more chapters to go. I'll try not to take this long for everything else.

**The Consequence of Lies**

"How bad?" Tre's voice was surprisingly soft. She didn't actually like the Unison Device, didn't know Agito well enough to feel comfortable stating something like that yet. Tre was long used to the idea of monsters hidden under the skin.

"Not very. Maybe." Samuel's tone reflected a very human frustration, and for only the second time in Tre's memory she saw him as a genuine human being rather than an idealized officer. "On the one hand, there's no sign she's hurt. On the other, Unison Devices aren't supposed to be able to faint." There was a frustrated sigh. "Again, maybe. Too little is known. Agito belongs to the class of technology that died with the first Belka and hasn't been recovered."

Tre was surprised at how much it appeared to bother him. He had not been this worried when Carolyn had been in the medical bay on the way back from Iorgu. "She'll be fine." Like many who had grown up with Bureau medical technology, experience had taught her that almost anything could be survived if you made it to a doctor, and most of it could be fixed. That she was a Combat Cyborg only made such a belief stronger. Anything which did not kill Tre immediately was something she would make a full recovery from.

"If this were anyone else, I would believe that." Samuel replied.

* * *

Wherever the Wolkenritter went, they were not short of things to do. There were plenty of people who wanted to borrow one of them for training purposes; live experience against the real thing. None of them had ever really thought of the Bureau as...effete, perhaps, but it was a civilized organization and generally fought by civilized rules. There were lengths to which Bureau warriors were not prepared to go.

It had come as something of a shock to Signum to see how many of them were willing, now, to prove her wrong on that. There had been a novelty to seeing Vita fight Faddil and his willingness to do _anything_, after a decade or so of otherwise principled fighters. Now it had worn off. Now it was the same as it had forever been; she was the monster and they fought against her with everything they had.

Refreshing, in a way. A return to the normal of her life, but carrying none of the old hate and fear. They were glad to see her, glad to learn from her, in a way she did not entirely understand. Signum was the absolute image of their worst enemies, and she knew enough of the behavior of people to know that this should color their attitudes. But it did not.

Belkans would never have handled it so well. Signum's past was so unlike her future, and she was not sure she could come to terms with some of the new realities. Even seeing Zafira voluntarily assume his human form was new, different, bizarre. And he did it with increasing regularity now.

It wasn't surprising, perhaps, that Zafira would have commented instead on the way Signum was significantly more comfortable with drawing her blade now. Levantine was her life, and she'd forgotten, for a long time, the simple pleasures of it. They were knights of Belka, their purpose and their craft was killing, but it had worn them down. There was only so much refuge to be had in duty and the unique inability of a Wolkenritter to snap. The nature of who they served and who they fought had not helped.

Now she could remember the simple joys of being skilled. The whistle of the blade in the air, the incredulous expression on an opponent's face as she moved faster than they thought possible, blocked or cut in ways they didn't believe she could have. Her victories were not tinged with shame, now. And neither were her defeats tinged with that sense that she allowed them, subconsciously perhaps, to beat her because she hated what she had become. She had lost fairly, putting her best effort forth without doubt.

If it had taken the Wolkenritter better than a decade to get there, well, it had taken them ten thousand years to get to the state before it. They were bouncing back quite well once everything was considered. And Hayate was glad of it, though she didn't like to let on.

It didn't occur to Hayate that the real problems with that were only just beginning.

* * *

Tre watched her superior pace. It was a mannerism that she wasn't used to. None of the Combat Cyborgs had ever had it during the bad old days with the Doctor. They had been...conditioned, to express agitation with violence. It was a reluctant conclusion for Tre. She had enough guilt issues already without exploring the many ways she'd been subtly molded into an engine of destruction.

She didn't notice she had an audience to her being the audience, though Samuel did and most of the non-Cyborgs in the room actually did as well.

"He was right not to allow me to discuss the nature of being the monster with Tre." Signum observed softly to Hayate, standing near the entrance. "I know that look."

Samuel looked at her. _Dame Signum._ His concern, or rather the depth of it, surprised Signum. He hadn't known Agito long. And it shamed her. She wasn't nearly as worried as he seemed to be.

Shame. Over another being more concerned about the safety of a third party. Signum felt momentarily disoriented, as though someone had reversed the gravity. This was something that hadn't happened in a very long time.

"Signum?" Hayate asked, concerned by what she felt over her link to the senior Wolkenritter.

Tre finally looked up and seemed to flinch at the sight of her. Signum nodded to the Cyborg. "Tre. Commander." Careful to address him properly: he was senior to her, it was a public setting, even if not one in which standing to attention and saluting were required.

He acknowledged her with a nod, but did not speak, resuming his pacing. Then he paused. "Tre. Keep an eye on Agito." And with that, he moved off.

Hayate was already speaking to a doctor, so Signum followed Samuel instead.

* * *

He was staring out a window, and he heard her approaching, even recognized her precise click-click footsteps when she was in uniform. "I am tired, I am angry, and while I may not manage to actually hurt you I think trying might be cathartic. Do not tempt me, Dame Signum."

She wasn't quiet about the way she moved closer instead. "And why not?"

"Section One, Lines One to Three. Section Two, Line One. Section Five, Line Thirty."

It took Signum a moment to place the reference, and even then she wasn't sure what Section Five and Line Thirty actually was. The first one, Section One, Lines One to Three, was easy: the commissioning contract that every Bureau commissioned officer had to recite at least once from memory. _You are expected to at all times conduct yourself in a manner appropriate and fitting for an officer of the Time-__Space Administrative Bureau, to at all times bear in mind the duties and responsibilities placed upon __you as an officer of the Time-Space Administrative Bureau... _"You give yourself too little credit."

"And you would know enough to make that judgment?" There was a hint of scorn. "I will do many things for the Bureau. I would willingly embrace damnation, and depending on who you ask I perhaps already have by becoming a cyborg. But I am human and you are not. I must struggle with my fears, my despair, my rage. You suffer no such indignities. Pity me or scorn me, but do not pretend to me that you know me well enough to understand."

Signum visibly flinched. She did not consider him a friend, not quite, but Vita did, and that counted for rather a lot among the members of the last Belkan knightly order. But Samuel had remembered what she was, as he often did, and turned it against Signum, forced her to remember that she was never entirely the woman, that she would always be the monster. It would have hurt less if Samuel had stabbed her in the chest.

But she could be stubborn too. "Then take a swing, sir. I am not moving unless you do."

He pressed a hand over his eyes, eventually running it back across his hair, slow. "You are betting that I am in a sufficiently uncooperative mood to not take a swing at you, because you dared me to." His voice was far too even. It took Signum a fraction of a second too long to realize why.

It was a solid hit, a left that would have shattered the jaw of a human and still hurt quite a bit as it snapped her head around. Even to hit her, he remembered what she was. It took considerable self-control not to respond or move to defend herself. Levantine on the other hand didn't react at all, when it was normally the first to leap to the defense of its mistress. No more blows were forthcoming. She turned her head back and gingerly touched her cheek. "Cathartic?"

"Not enough," was the answer. His expression was blanked out. He might not be able to control his emotions, but he was a Combat Cyborg; he could control if they got out.

"Again." Signum replied.

Then his expression contorted with grief and rage, and he turned away again. "Yes. Abuse the woman who has suffered abuse her whole life. It'll make you feel better."

He was right. She didn't understand him at all. She'd never seen so much emotion from him before, so much raw anger. It reminded her of the behavior of a Belkan knight, just a little. Belka's protectors had been honed to a sharp edge of ferocity, to the point they sometimes had to fight it when it tried to manifest in places and times it wasn't appropriate.

But his issue was different. His rage and his despair, he'd said. Familiar, too familiar, to Signum, but not things she had ever been forced to struggle with. Being a Wolkenritter, bound to obey, all emotions cast aside the moment they got in the way of her ability to execute her orders, she understood only those things which she had seen in masters and mistresses over the years.

And while she had seen them rage and despair, by the time they did it in front of her, they were no longer trying to fight it. It was not that they had all been evil, though the vast majority of them probably fit that description. But if not that, they had been desperate beyond reason to take up the Book, so deep in their anger or their despair that they could see no other method but the superweapon thrust into their hands. And to hell with the doom it would bring upon everything and everyone.

No. Nothing useful to compare to there. Nothing useful in his other behavior; the leader's mask, if mask it was. Nor the willingness to do _anything._ This was not the man who had accepted Tre's killing of a child Cyborg during their apprehension of Jail with a shrug. Not the man who had killed one of her clones, the first one, stood up, dusted himself off, and wondered aloud how he'd explain this to the Admiral.

Though this new side lended him a hint of tragedy, familiar almost-Signum's train of thought came to a screeching halt. _He is not Kalb. This is not Alphard. Things are different._ "You do not want to share this. As part of being an officer." Her voice dropped to a softer level and tone. "You must understand, I do not think less of you for this. If anything, I would envy you. It is something I will never be able to do." Her eyes flicked to the deck. "Which I fear reflects poorly on me as an intelligent creature."

"Believe me, it does not. The fact you can avoid this and yet remain a decent person is deeply to your credit." A long sigh. His hands relaxed out of the fists they'd been since before she'd entered the room. "Your life has been hard enough. Take the mercy it offers you and be glad."

"Mercy without justices creates monsters. Justice without mercy makes a monster out the deliverer." Signum replied, softly. An old Belkan aphorism, nearly as old as she was. "I will never know for sure which side of that divide I'm on."

A sigh. "Assumes you're not in the middle. Hit me."

She wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"I should not have struck you. It was undeserved. The simplest form of reparations, a blow for a blow." He turned around, and his incongruously Belkan blue eyes were very bright, this close. "Hit me."

He was a little taller than her. And if he wanted to it would not be completely impossible to stop her. His Cyborg poker face gave away very little. Did he mean it? Only one way to find out.

She telegraphed the wind-up, giving him a last chance to change his mind, and hit him across the jaw. It actually hurt, and she wondered if he'd hurt himself hitting her. His head didn't rotate easily with the blow, but it did turn. As a Cyborg it would not have been hard for him to roll with it, but he had refused to lessen his own suffering.

He touched his jaw and winced. "Good right."

"No one is a knight of Belka who is helpless without a weapon." Signum paused. "They taught us that three months before we were given our first practice weapons, and reinforced it regularly. I do not know if that childhood was real, of course. All evidence is long gone, all witnesses long dead."

"But you think it was." His tone was surprisingly soft, and there was...sympathy? No. Something warm, something related to sympathy, but not it exactly. There was a distance to it. "Because in admitting a fall from grace, you are admitting that grace is something you were once capable of, and hence could be capable of again."

Signum managed, just barely, to restrain her reaction. It helped she didn't have a sufficiently strong curse to open with. That was perceptive of him, and cut deeply. Now she discovered that even if someone did understand her, she only appreciated it to a point. She took several steps back, and noted the twitch of a grin from him. "Some things are not meant to be shared, are they Dame Signum?"

"No," she agreed reluctantly. "They are not. But it is too late, now, to take them back."

He made a noise that was almost a laugh, but strangled. "Not so easily sent away. I respect you, and for that reason alone I would not willingly have you deal with me when I'm like this. There are others, of course. I will leave if you do not, so the choice is yours."

Reluctantly, Signum nodded and withdrew from the room.

* * *

Agito woke to find herself well-attended. Her new partner and Tre both were present, along with several Bureau sciencey types. "Welcome back." Samuel's tone was concerned, slightly. "Have a good nap?"

Agito swore softly. "Damn it. I'm sorry about that, Sammy. It shouldn't-"

"Relax. You're good to go and it wasn't more than temporarily awkward." Samuel said. "And you may have inadvertently answered an important question."

Agito's hands balled into fists and she rose from her lying position into the air. "Has somebody talked to Scaligetti?"

"Down, girl." Samuel sounded vaguely amused. "My report was filed while I was standing by your bed. I also spoke to my father, personally, because it seemed important he learn quickly. Naval Counterintelligence has had branding irons applied to Scaligetti's testicles for a couple days at least."

"I've been out that long?" Agito was clearly disturbed.

"The Commander has been counting." Tre replied. "Two days, six hours, thirty-nine minutes."

"Seventeen seconds." The addition was almost automatic, and Agito wondered if they'd done this routine before. "We're partners." Samuel said. "I take your safety, and Tre's, very seriously." In the background, Tre blushed faintly before she managed to get it under control. Yes, it was like Jail in a way; but Jail did not stand vigils as Samuel had done, nor did he demand that others do so if he was not able.

Agito nodded, a little bit abashed, but not much. "You...didn't meant the branding iron thing literally, did you?"

Samuel shook his head. "Aside from the fact that it would never be authorized, I once asked my father about the subject. Physical torture, he said, is an ineffective means of interrogation. People will say what they think you want to hear to make you stop, which is not necessarily the truth. If for some reason the Bureau Council told him 'no rules', he'd keep them awake for a couple days and doped to the eyebrows. Then he'd start asking questions."

Agito stared for a couple of moments, as did Tre, before Agito spoke for both of them. "I'm kind of sorry I asked."

Samuel grinned faintly, but it wasn't a happy expression. "So was I. I was afraid to ask if the Council had ever told him there were no rules. Never have." Tre was reminded of something her father had once said to her regarding an infiltration mission, about taking care when asking questions of those who were both intelligent and thorough. Just in case they really know the answer. Samuel nodded to Agito and held out a hand. "Ready to go?"

Agito touched his hand. "Unison in."

* * *

Nanoha was on a holo with Hayate, reporting on the aftermath of the scuffle Uno had gotten into. "Hayate...they're both rather attached to Yuuno and getting moreso the more he attempts to take responsibility. I can see this ending only a small number of ways, most of them messy. With your permission, I will handle it."

Hayate frowned heavily. "Nanoha, that's hardly appropriate."

Nanoha took a long moment to collect her thoughts, which surprised Hayate. "I made a choice, a long time ago, to save a life. Yuuno was a mature, capable person who could clearly deal with anything life might throw at him. Fate was a timid wreck who shivered when touched and bore incredible guilt over the death of her actual mother Precia and her emotional mother Linith. Someone who could easily be destroyed by a careless crush or errant friend. I took responsibility. I saved a life. I did the greatest good possible. But that did a disservice to Yuuno. I love Fate dearly and do not regret my choice, but I am still aware it was a choice and that I could have been happy with either of them. Yuuno suffered for this choice, not as badly as Fate might have, but he did. I am not inclined to allow him to suffer further in this manner."

Hayate's eyebrows went up. That was actually the first time she'd heard Nanoha acknowledge Yuuno's crush aloud. Ever. "You've know that long?"

"I have. But it was important, at least at the beginning, that Fate have no reason to feel threatened. And after that..." Nanoha sighed. "After that, it was easier to maintain my obliviousness than to explain. Not anymore."

Hayate briefly closed her eyes and considered options. She could not come down hard on her subordinates; it was not her style and would have consequences for the future were she to do it for something like this. Her authority, or at least how she exercised it now, would be permanently damaged.

Nanoha, on the other hand, was known for being forceful. And occasionally vengeful. If she made threats, they would be treated with the utmost seriousness. "All right." Hayate said softly. "Do what you need to do."

"Thank you, Hayate. I will be in touch."

She closed the holowindow and looked up, locating Signum, who was...Hayate paused. Signum looked troubled. "Signum, is everything all right?"

"Yes." Signum sounded like she meant it, but her face didn't seem like it. Hayate was both surprised Signum would lie to her, and in a bizarre way, proud. Her knights continued to grow up, to grow out of being her knights and into their own people.

Still, this might be an issue in time. Hayate would have to keep an eye on it.

* * *

Uno rubbed at her temples. Father had made a mess of this. There was now good reason to believe that he'd actually started the war with the New Belkans. Even knowing him as well as she did, she was mystified as to why he would have done something like this, send Zest and Lutecia to steal Agito like this...

There was a certain conceptual brilliance to stealing from a government that had no way of knowing you existed. There was also a deep and abiding stupidity to taking an action that would have pitted Jail's glorious scientific revolution against the New Belkans, assuming he'd won. How had he even known? It bothered her immensely that Jail could have kept such a secret from _her_ of all people.

"Uno?" That was Takamachi's voice. Uno looked up, standing and coming to attention slowly from her tiredness, but her salute was still a quick snap. "Major Takamachi."

"We need to talk." Nanoha said.


	29. Let Them Burn

With apologies to Tom Carhart. (If you recognize that author, I'm officially impressed. If you've actually _read_ the book in question, just...wow.)

I'm going to let the story rest here. Finishing the war has grown remote, and in a way feels wrong. Samuel's story is essentially over, and with it any way to use him to study the other characters that does not feel forced. Who lives and dies, in the end? I don't know. I don't really feel I should. Lindy survived. The mission was a success. A war such as this doesn't end in a day. It will last years more but it will be a very different war from what it was. Suited to a different story, and perhaps a different author. But let the flames of war keep burning. They give people like Nanoha focus.

**Let Them Burn**

"So why aren't _we_ going?" Nanoha demanded.

"Because you would not come back." Signum wasn't the one actually being addressed, but her reply was calm. They were discussing the most important part of the war so far. The Bureau had found the location of the New Belkan Book of Darkness substitute. "And, you are not as expendable as others."

Only for the Dream Team to be forced to sit out the attack because the Bureau could not throw them away. But there was a second reason for Nanoha not to take it well.

* * *

Fate wasn't.

"Mom!" Fate protested. "You don't even have a-" Lindy Harlaown raised the blue card-like form of Durandel as a reply, and Fate cut off strangled for a few moments. "You did the operation without telling me?"

"Someone had to lead the mission," Lindy said. "We're asking a lot of a hundred and fifty people. Even a hundred and fifty Combat Cyborgs. If they win...it becomes _acceptable_ to be a Cyborg and there's no putting the genie back in the bottle. Someone will have to speak for them, after this is all over. Someone whose voice is respected, who is known for their fairness. Genya is a good man, but he's not senior enough."

"And it could kill you." Fate protested.

"Fate...that's always been the case. We're Harlaowns. We fight. Daughters and mothers may both have to bury the other in this family, and we've always known that." Lindy's tone was soft.

"But..." Fate began, then sighed. "I wish you had told me, mother, at least about the operation. My mother the Combat Cyborg will...be hard to get used to."

There was an obvious answer about it being maybe not necessary, but Lindy Harlaown was a better person than to suggest she might not come back any more than was absolutely necessary. She hugged her adopted daughter. "Now, I have to go. Look after Erio, Caro, and Vivio for me. Make sure Nanoha doesn't do anything stupid."

* * *

"Father."

Muhammad al-Faddil looked tired, as his son had seen only one or twice before. "Samuel. Off to the wars."

He managed a strangled chuckle. "Literary reference. Earth, British. Oddly appropriate, considering-"

"Our differences with our enemies are that they think they can rule us better than we can rule ourselves. Or perhaps the theory they are a broken culture created from the ruins of some wayward Belkan warship or outpost is true." Muhammad sighed. "Your mother would ask you to not go."

"Everyone's mother would ask them to not go. Father-"

"Calm, Samuel. I will not ask that of you." Muhammad said. "We treat the concept slightly differently, but we both believe in duty. The oath of service is an offering. You offer your life to the Bureau, and sometimes it accepts. I will not ask you to be careful. In our own ways, you, I, even your mother, we were born to fight this war. To keep you from doing so would be...cruel, to me and to you. But I have been asked by Lindy Harlaown to make a request of you."

Samuel grimaced. "I'd heard they were giving Combat Cyborg Battalion to her."

"She wants you to help. I told her you'd never accept the captaincy, but perhaps a brevet rank."

Samuel closed his eyes and his head slumped. "I see. Why me?"

"A warlord. She hasn't commanded under fire in a long time, and it lends her perspective and credibility to have someone of suitable rank about. She is after all impossibly senior." Muhammad said. "And you are _the_ Bureau Combat Cyborg at this point. Anyone who has been one longer was made by Jail Scaligetti. Will you accept?"

"Ah, the whip hand. My respect for Admiral Harlaown senior grows." The sardonicism could have been cut with a knife. "I'll talk to her about it."

* * *

Rank upon rank of black longcoats. Lindy felt oddly at home here, though she'd only worn this uniform for a couple of years. There was also a contingent from Ground Forces, another fifty mages in brown-and-brown formals. Even a squad from the Air Force, blue and white. Lindy looked close to make sure Nanoha Takamachi wasn't among them. It seemed like something she'd do.

They'd trained for this for several weeks. They were ready, she thought, quickly. It befitted their nature they had learned fast, since each and every one was a Combat Cyborg. The speeches had been made.

_Deploy._

Lindy raised her voice. "Deploy!"

If it went well, they'd be back in three hours.

* * *

_Combat Cyborg Battalion is dissolved and its members returned to their parent units. The unit designation of Combat Cyborg Battalion is hereby permanently retired from active service in recognition of the fact that no Bureau soldiers have ever or will ever again be called upon to undertake a task of such difficulty and importance. All members of First Combat Cyborg Battalion are entitled to retain their unit insignia regardless of any current or future assignment. I wish to commend all members of the battalion on their exceptional courage, skill, and resolve in completing their mission._

_Signed,_

_Lindy Harlaown, Vice Admiral._


End file.
